


Wiccan or Wizarding? Part 3

by BroDan



Series: Charmed/Harry Potter [3]
Category: Charmed (TV 1998), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Book 3: Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, Charmed References, Dementors sensed orbing, Drew can't orb near a Dementor, F/M, Gay Male Character, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Ratings: R, Tags Are Fun, Tags Are Hard, Tags Contain Spoilers, Tags May Change, Whitelighters (Charmed), Witch (Charmed)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-13 21:21:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 100,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28910010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BroDan/pseuds/BroDan
Summary: The Golden Quartet were back for their third year in Hogwarts. A mass murderer, Sirius Black, had broken out of Azkaban, a high security wizarding prison. Will The Golden Quartet catch the murderer?
Relationships: Harry Potter/Original Male Character(s), Hermione Grange & Peter Parker, Hermione Granger & Harry Potter & Ron Weasley & Original Male Character(s)
Series: Charmed/Harry Potter [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2095974
Comments: 1
Kudos: 4





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Like/Kudos= Pro
> 
> Comment=Hacker
> 
> Bookmark=God
> 
> Ignore=Noob

“Dylan, watch out!” shouted Drew. Dylan dodged a firebolt and conjured an athame. Drew, Dylan and their youngest brother, Damien, were in an alley at San Francisco, fighting a group of Harpies.

Dylan got a new power last month which is Conjuration. He can conjure anything except people and animal.

“Damien! Behind you!” shouted Dylan. Damien squinted his eyes but it had no effect on the harpies.

Damien had black hair, hazel eyes and a very cute face which made everyone (including demons) looked at him distractly.

His powers include orbing, minor healing, telekinesis and telepathy. The brothers gathered and casted:

_“Claws of pain, we have to sever,_

_Demon, you are gone forever.”_

With the spell, the harpies exploded into pieces. “Let's go home, boys,” said Drew casually and the brothers orbed to the Halliwell Manor.

When they arrived, their Dad was standing in front of them. “So, where have you three been?” “You know...vanquishing demons.” said Drew innocently.

Chris shook his head gently. “By the way, your friends called you just now,” “Really? Ok, thanks Dad,” said Drew as he summoned two cellphones and orbed to his room.

Drew then dialled Ron's and Hermione's number. “HI—I'M RON WEASLEY—WHO ARE YOU!” “Ron, can you keep it down, my ear is going to explode,” said Hermione. “Sorry, Hermione—wait, Hermione?” “I called her, Ron,” “Drew!” exclaimed the both of them.

“Hey, how it's going with you two?” asked Drew. “Great! My family had won a bunch of money, we were in Egypt, visiting my brother, Bill,”

“And I'm in French, it is so nice here,” said Hermione dreamily. “What about you, Drew? Do you have some fun?”

“Oh, I have a lot of fun, by the way, do you know Harry had blew up his aunt?” said Drew, remembering his Aunt Melinda had told him about Harry.

“Yes, I heard, my Dad told me,” said Ron. “I hope Harry will not be expelled,” said Hermione worriedly.

They were having a small talk until Ron mentioned about Sirius Black. “Who is he?” asked Drew. “Don't you know? He is the one who broke out from Azkaban,” “Isn't that the high security prison?”

Ron didn't answer. “Ron?” called Drew. “Yes?” “Why aren't you answering me?” “I did—I nodded,” Drew then tried hard not to laugh.

“Ron, we can't see you nodding,” said Hermione seriously. “You can't?” Drew eventually bursted out laughing.

Fifteen minutes later, they said goodbye to one another and hung up. Drew heard something outside. He walked towards his window and saw a man. He was dirty-blonde and wore all black. He was standing outside the Manor. His face looked deadly serious.

Drew closed his eyes for a couple of seconds. He opened his eyes and the man disappeared. “Drew,” called his father. “Yes, Dad?” said Drew as he turned around.

“Can you take your little brother to the Diagon Alley, please?” told Chris to his oldest son. “Which brother?” Chris gave his son an 'are-you-serious' stare. “Oh, you mean Damien?—Sure, I'll bring him,”

“Great,” Before he left the room, Drew asked, “Dad, can I stay at the Leaky Cauldron, I heard Harry is staying there for the week,” Chris raised his eyebrows. “Ooooohh, miss your boyfriend already?” teased Chris.

“Shut up, Dad,” said Drew as his face turned crimson. “And you better don't break up with him,” “Oh, Dad. Don't worry, do you think I will break up with Harry Potter?” said Drew and Chris chuckled. 

“Damien! C'mon, we better go,” and Damien came in. “Eeeek, you have such a cute face,” said Drew as if he had bought the cutest cat in the world.

“Cut that out, Drew,” said Damien, looking irritated. Then, they orbed to the Diagon Alley.


	2. The Leaky Cauldron

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drew met the Angel of Death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like/Kudos= Pro
> 
> Comment=Hacker
> 
> Bookmark=God
> 
> Ignore=Noob

As they orbed to their destination, they saw a few people walking down the alley. There weren't many people there.

Drew thought people will not come out of their houses with Sirius Black on the loose.

“Ok, let's see...” said Drew as he checked his brother's list. Luckily, he knew every shop in the Diagon Alley.

First, they went to Gringotts to get some of Drew's Galleons out of his vault. Then, they went to the Olivander's.

Damien got a wand that was twelve inches long, made from elm wood and Phoenix feather. After that, they went to the _Apothecary_ to buy some potions ingredients. “Take more, Damien,” Drew told his brother. “Just in case...”

Moreover, they also went to _Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions_ to buy some robes. Drew had grown four inches in two months, so his robes were several inches too short in the arm and leg.

Lastly, they went to Flourish and Blotts. Instead of the usual display of gold-embossed spellbooks the size of paving slabs, there was a large iron cage behind the glass that held about a hundred copies of _The Monster Book of Monsters._

Torn pages were flying everywhere as the books grappled with each other, locked together in furious wrestling matches and snapping aggressively.

They bought the books that were on Damien's list. While they were there, Drew also bought his books for his third year in Hogwarts, that included his new subjects which is Divination and Care of Magical Creatures. When he bought _The Monster Book of Monsters_ , he found out he need to stroke it to open the book.

It was now six in the evening. “Transfiguration... check...Charms...check...” said Drew seriously. “Ok...I think we are done, you can go home now, I will look for Harry.” “Ok,” said Damien and he orbed back to the Manor.

Drew then headed to the Leaky Cauldron. Along the way, he saw the dirty-blonde man again. He was standing behind Drew.

“Who are you?” asked Drew cautiously. “Maybe you don't know me but—I'm the Angel of Death,”

Drew's eyes widened. “The Angel of Death...my grandmother had told me about you,” “Oh, Piper Halliwell, that troublemaker, oh, I really miss her,” said Death sarcastically. “What do you want from me?” “I'm here to warn you,”

“About what?” asked Drew. “That three deaths will occur this year,”

Drew's heart now was beating fast. “Is one of them was Harry?” asked Drew quickly. “Harry Potter, that boy's name frequently showed up on my list and always vanish few hours later,”

“Is—It—Harry?” asked Drew sternly. “Unfortunately, I can't tell you,” said Death. “We will meet again, Drew Halliwell,” “Wait!” called Drew but it was too late; the Angel of Death had disappeared.

Drew looked around and ran to the Leaky Cauldron as quick as he could. When he finally arrived, Drew saw Harry was following a man up a handsome wooden staircase to a door with a brass number eleven on it.

“Harry!” shrieked Drew and Harry turned around. The next thing he know was he was being hugged by Drew. “Drew! What are you doing here?” “I miss you so much,” said Drew, sweating. “I miss you too, Drew,”

“Ahem,” coughed the man. “Oh, er—Drew—this is Tom, the innkeeper, and Tom—this is my boyfriend, Drew Halliwell,” introduced Harry. Tom and Drew shook hands.

“It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Halliwell,” said Tom. “Well, do you want to rent a room?” Drew was thinking until his thought was interrupted by Harry. “We can share rooms,” said Harry, hoping Drew to accept.

“Sure,” Harry smiled. “Well then,” Tom unlocked and opened the door for them. Inside was a very big comfortable-looking bed, some highly polished oak furniture, a cheerfully crackling fire and, perched on top of the wardrobe—

"Hedwig!" Harry gasped. Drew also saw his things and owl were already in the room. “Cuddles!” The owls clicked their beak and fluttered down onto their master's arm.

"Very smart owl you two got there," chuckled Tom. "Arrived about five minutes after you did. If there's anything you need, Mr. Potter, Mr. Halliwell, don't hesitate to ask." He gave another bow and left.

Harry and Drew sat on their bed for a long time, absentmindedly stroking their owls with one hand. They also held hands with their another hand.

The sky outside the window was changing rapidly from deep, velvety blue to cold, steely gray and then, slowly, to pink shot with gold.

“Harry, did you really blew up your aunt?” asked Drew suddenly. “Yes, but I didn't mean to and how did you know?” “Aunt Mel” said Drew. “I know the feeling—when you lose control of your powers,” “You do?” said Harry curiously.

“When I was five, I was so sad because my mother had passed away,” said Drew. “Drew...” “I was so sad I almost blew up the Halliwell Manor,” “But her loss made me stronger, my father told me that we just have to—move on,”

There was a moment of silence. “Drew,” called Harry, still stroking Hedwig. “Yes?” “You seemed very nervous when you found me, what happened?”

Drew didn't want to told Harry about the Angel of Death or that he might die at any moment.

“I—I was just thrilled to see you, that's all,” said Drew quickly. Harry stopped stroking his owl and told Hedwig and Cuddles to get some air.

The owls flew out from the window. He looked at his handsome boyfriend who was sitting beside him. “Do you know that you have a pair of beautiful eyes?” “You think s—”

Drew then realized Harry's lip was now on his. “I missed kissing you,” said Harry seductively as he topped Drew. Drew blushed slightly. “I missed the thing we did together,”

Harry was just about to kiss his boyfriend when Drew put a finger on Harry's lip. “Not today, Potter,” said Drew as he pushed Harry off his body, which made Harry frowned. “Awww, can I at least hug you?” “Sure,” chuckled Drew.

And without even removing their glasses, they slumped back onto their pillows with Harry hugging Drew and fell asleep.

In the next morning, Harry woke up and saw he was still hugging Drew. “Drew, wake up,” called Harry but Drew was still out cold.

Harry then had an idea that nobody would've think of. Harry pulled down Drew's pants and underwear. Without hesitation, he touched Drew's cock. Drew moaned.

Harry pumped it hard and quick then soft and slow. After a few minutes, Drew moaned even louder which means sooner he will come.

Then, Drew woke up to find out that he was half naked and Harry's hand was grabbing his cock.

“Harry, what are you doing?” asked Drew as Harry licked Drew's ejaculation. “What else? Helping you,”

“I can't believe that our relationship made you so...cocky,” “Well, I think the hormones made me do it,” said Harry innocently. “Forgive me?” Drew chuckled and nodded.

Harry and Drew ate breakfast each morning in the Leaky Cauldron, where they liked watching the other guests: funny little witches from the country, up for a day's shopping; venerable-looking wizards arguing over the latest article in _Transfiguration Today_ ; wild-looking warlocks; raucous dwarfs; and once, what looked suspiciously like a hag, who ordered a plate of raw liver from behind a thick woolen balaclava.

After breakfast, Harry and Drew would go out into the backyard, then Harry took out his wand, tap the third brick from the left above the trash bin, and stand back as the archway into Diagon Alley opened in the wall.

Harry and Drew spent the long sunny days exploring the shops and eating under the brightly colored umbrellas outside cafes, where his fellow diners were showing one another their purchases ("It's a lunascope, old boy—no more messing around with moon charts, see?") or else discussing the case of Sirius Black ("Personally, I won't let any of the children out alone until he's back in Azkaban").

Apart from that, Harry and Drew would sit in the bright sunshine outside _Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor_ , finishing all their essays with occasional help from Florean Fortescue himself, who, apart from knowing a great deal about medieval witch burnings, gave Harry and Drew free sundaes every half an hour.

Once Harry and Drew had refilled his money bag with gold Galleons, silver Sickles, and bronze Knuts from their vaults at Gringotts, they had to exercise a lot of self-control not to spend the whole lot at once.

Besides that, Harry led Drew to his favorite shop, _Quality Quidditch Supplies_ , a week after he'd arrived at the Leaky Cauldron.

Curious to know what the crowd in the shop was staring at, Harry and Drew edged their way inside and squeezed in among the excited witches and wizards until he glimpsed a newly erected podium, on which was mounted the most magnificent broom he had ever seen in his life.

"Just come out—prototype—" a square-jawed wizard was telling his companion. "It's the fastest broom in the world, isn't it, Dad?" squeaked a boy younger than Harry and Drew, who was swinging off his father's arm.

"Irish International Side's just put in an order for seven of these beauties!" the proprietor of the shop told the crowd. "And they're favorites for the World Cup!"

A large witch in front of Harry and Drew moved, and they were able to read the sign next to the broom:

**_** THE FIREBOLT **_ **

**_THIS STATE-OF-THE-ART RACING BROOM SPORTS A STREAM-LINED, SUPERFINE HANDLE OF ASH, TREATED WITH A DIAMOND-HARD POLISH AND HAND-NUMBERED WITH ITS OWN REGISTRATION NUMBER. EACH INDIVIDUALLY SELECTED BIRCH TWIG IN THE BROOMTAIL HAS BEEN HONED TO AERODYNAMIC PERFECTION, GIVING THE FIREBOLT UNSURPASSABLE BALANCE AND PINPOINT PRECISION. THE FIREBOLT HAS AN ACCELERATION OF 150 MILES AN HOUR IN TEN SECONDS AND INCORPORATES AN UNBREAKABLE BRAKING CHARM. PRICE ON REQUEST._ **

“Can you believe it!” said Drew, looking excited. “I wonder how much does it cost,” But Harry stay silent. “Hey, Harry, are you ok?” “Yeah, I'm doing just fine,”

There were, however, things that Harry needed to buy. Harry and Drew went to the Apothecary to replenish Harry's store of potions ingredients, and as his school robes also were now several inches too short in the arm and leg, he visited Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions and bought new ones.

Most important of all, he had to buy his new schoolbooks. Harry pulled his booklist out of his pocket and consulted it for the first time.

 _The Monster Book of Monsters_ was listed as the required book for Care of Magical Creatures. As Harry and Drew entered Flourish and Blotts, the manager came hurrying toward him.

"Oh welcome back, Mr. Halliwell, Hogwarts?" he said abruptly as he turned to Harry. "Come to get your new books?"

"Yes," said Harry, "I need—" "Get out of the way," said the manager impatiently, brushing Harry and Drew aside.

He drew on a pair of very thick gloves, picked up a large, knobbly walking stick, and proceeded toward the door of the Monster Books' cage.

"Hang on," said Harry quickly, "I've already got one of those." "Have you?" A look of enormous relief spread over the manager's face. "Thank heavens for that. I've been bitten five times already this morning—"

A loud ripping noise rent the air; two of the Monster Books had seized a third and were pulling it apart. "Stop it! Stop it!" cried the manager, poking the walking stick through the bars and knocking the books apart.

"I'm never stocking them again, never! It's been bedlam! I thought we'd seen the worst when we bought two hundred copies of _the Invisible Book of Invisibility_ —cost a fortune, and we never found them...Well...is there anything else I can help you with?"

"Yes," said Harry, looking down his booklist, "I need _Unfogging the Future_ by Cassandra Vablatsky." "Ah, starting Divination, are you?" said the manager, stripping off his gloves and leading Harry and Drew into the back of the shop, where there was a corner devoted to fortune-telling.

A small table was stacked with volumes such as _Predicting the Unpredictable: Insulate Yourself Against Shocks and Broken Balls: When Fortunes Turn Foul._

"Here you are," said the manager, who had climbed a set of steps to take down a thick, black-bound book. " _Unfogging the Future_. Very good guide to all your basic fortune-telling methods—palmistry, crystal balls, bird entrails. "

But Harry wasn't listening. His eyes had fallen on another book, which was among a display on a small table: _Death Omens—What to Do When You Know the Worst Is Coming._

"Oh, I wouldn't read that if I were you," said the manager lightly, looking to see what Harry was staring at. "You'll start seeing death omens everywhere. It's enough to frighten anyone to death."

But Harry continued to stare at the front cover of the book; it showed a black dog large as a bear, with gleaming eyes. "Harry, are you ok?" asked Drew worriedly. "I told you, I'm fine," Harry assured Drew.

The manager pressed _Unfogging the Future_ into Harry's hands. "Anything else?" he said. "Yes," said Harry, tearing his eyes away from the dog's and dazedly consulting his booklist. "Er—I need _Intermediate Transfiguration_ and _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade Three_. "

Harry and Drew emerged from Flourish and Blotts ten minutes later with Harry's new books under their arms and made their way back to the Leaky Cauldron, hardly noticing where they were going and bumping into several people.

"You don't have to carry all of that, you know," said Harry. "Don't be silly, Harry, I will always help you, no matter what,"

They tramped up the stairs to their room, went inside, and tipped Harry's books onto their bed. Somebody had been in to tidy; the windows were open and sun was pouring inside.

Harry and Drew could hear the buses rolling by in the unseen Muggle street behind him and the sound of the invisible crowd below in Diagon Alley.

As the days slipped by, Harry and Drew started looking wherever they went for a sign of Ron or Hermione. Plenty of Hogwarts students were arriving in Diagon Alley now, with the start of term so near.

Harry and Drew met Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas, their fellow Gryffindors, in Quality Quidditch Supplies, where they too were ogling the Firebolt; they also ran into Neville Longbottom, a round-faced, forgetful boy, outside Flourish and Blotts.

Harry and Drew didn't stop to chat; Neville appeared to have mislaid his booklist and was being told off by his very formidable-looking grandmother.

Harry and Drew woke on the last day of the holidays, thinking that they would at least meet Ron and Hermione tomorrow, on the Hogwarts Express.

They got up, dressed, went for a last look at the Firebolt, and was just talking about where they'd have lunch, when someone yelled their names and they turned.

"Harry! Drew!" They were there, both of them, sitting outside Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor—Ron looking incredibly freckly, Hermione very brown, both waving frantically at him.

"Finally!" said Ron, grinning at Harry as he sat down. "We went to the Leaky Cauldron, but they said you two had left, and we went to Flourish and Blotts, and Madam Malkin's, and—"

"We got all our school stuff last week," Harry explained. "And how come you knew we're staying at the Leaky Cauldron?" "Dad," said Ron simply.

Mr. Weasley, who worked at the Ministry of Magic, would of course have heard the whole story of what had happened to Aunt Marge.

"Did you really blow up your aunt, Harry?" said Hermione in a very serious voice. "I didn't mean to," said Harry, while Ron roared with laughter. "I just—lost control." "It's not funny, Ron," said Hermione sharply. "Honestly, I'm amazed Harry wasn't expelled."

"So am I," admitted Harry. "Forget expelled, I thought I was going to be arrested." He looked at Ron. "Your dad doesn't know why Fudge let me off, does he?"

"Probably 'cause it's you, isn't it?" shrugged Ron, still chuckling. "Famous Harry Potter and all that. I'd hate to see what the Ministry'd do to me if I blew up an aunt. Mind you, they'd have to dig me up first, because Mum would've killed me. Anyway, you can ask Dad yourself this evening. We're staying at the Leaky Cauldron tonight too! So you can come to King's Cross with us tomorrow! Hermione's there as well!"

Hermione nodded, beaming. "Mum and Dad dropped me off this morning with all my Hogwarts things." "Excellent!" said Harry happily. "So, have you got all your new books and stuff?"

Then, the other three looked at Drew, who was quiet for the entire conversation. Drew was looking at someone; the Angel of Death.

Death was standing in front of Madam Malkin's shop, staring at the Quartet. “Drew, are you ok?” asked Ron worriedly. “Oh, I'm fine,”

"Look at this," said Ron, pulling a long thin box out of a bag and opening it. "Brand-new wand. Fourteen inches, willow, containing one unicorn tail-hair. And we've got all our books—" He pointed at a large bag under his chair. "What about those Monster Books, eh? The assistant nearly cried when we said we wanted two." "What's all that, Hermione?" Harry asked, pointing at not one but three bulging bags in the chair next to her.

"Well, I'm taking more new subjects than you, aren't I," said Hermione. "Those are my books for Arithmancy, Care of Magical Creatures, Divination, the Study of Ancient Runes, Muggle Studies—"

"What are you doing Muggle Studies for?" said Ron, rolling his eyes at Harry. "You're Muggle-born! Your mum and dad are Muggles! You already know all about Muggles!" "But it'll be fascinating to study them from the wizarding point of view," said Hermione earnestly.

"Are you planning to eat or sleep at all this year, Hermione?" asked Harry, while Ron and Drew sniggered.

Hermione ignored them. "I've still got ten Galleons," she said, checking her purse. "It's my birthday in September, and Mum and Dad gave me some money to get myself an early birthday present."

"How about a nice book? said Ron innocently. "No, I don't think so," said Hermione composedly. "I really want an owl. I mean, Harry's got Hedwig, Drew's got Cuddles and you've got Errol—"

"I haven't," said Ron. "Errol's a family owl. All I've got is Scabbers." He pulled his pet rat out of his pocket. "And I want to get him checked over," he added, placing Scabbers on the table in front of them. "I don't think Egypt agreed with him."

Scabbers was looking thinner than usual, and there was a definite droop to his whiskers. "There's a magical creature shop just over there," said Harry, who knew Diagon Alley very well by now. "You could see if they've got anything for Scabbers, and Hermione can get her owl."

So they paid for their ice cream and crossed the street to the Magical Menagerie. There wasn't much room inside. Every inch of wall was hidden by cages.

It was smelly and very noisy because the occupants of these cages were all squeaking, squawking, jabbering, or hissing.

The witch behind the counter was already advising a wizard on the care of double-ended newts, so Harry, Drew, Ron, and Hermione waited, examining the cages.

A pair of enormous purple toads sat gulping wetly and feasting on dead blowflies. A gigantic tortoise with a jewel-encrusted shell was glittering near the window.

Poisonous orange snails were oozing slowly up the side of their glass tank, and a fat white rabbit kept changing into a silk top hat and back again with a loud popping noise.

Then there were cats of every color, a noisy cage of ravens, a basket of funny custard-colored furballs that were humming loudly, and on the counter, a vast cage of sleek black rats that were playing some sort of skipping game using their long, bald tails.

The double-ended newt wizard left, and Ron approached the counter. "It's my rat," he told the witch. "He's been a bit off-color ever since I brought him back from Egypt." "Bang him on the counter," said the witch, pulling a pair of heavy black spectacles out of her pocket.

Ron lifted Scabbers out of his inside pocket and placed him next to the cage of his fellow rats, who stopped their skipping tricks and scuffled to the wire for a better took.

Like nearly everything Ron owned, Scabbers the rat was secondhand (he had once belonged to Ron's brother Percy) and a bit battered. Next to the glossy rats in the cage, he looked especially woebegone.

"Hm," said the witch, picking up Scabbers. "How old is this rat?" "Dunno," said Ron. "Quite old. He used to belong to my brother."

"What powers does he have?" said the witch, examining Scabbers closely. "Er—" The truth was that Scabbers had never shown the faintest trace of interesting powers.

The witch's eyes moved from Scabbers's tattered left ear to his front paw, which had a toe missing, and tutted loudly.

"He's been through the mill, this one," she said. "He was like that when Percy gave him to me," said Ron defensively.

"An ordinary common or garden rat like this can't be expected to live longer than three years or so," said the witch. "Now, if you were looking for something a bit more hard-wearing, you might like one of these—"

She indicated the black rats, who promptly started skipping again. Ron muttered, "Show-offs." "Well, if you don't want a replacement, you can try this rat tonic," said the witch, reaching under the counter and bringing out a small red bottle.

"Okay," said Ron. "How much—OUCH!" Ron buckled as something huge and orange came soaring from the top of the highest cage, landed on his head, and then propelled itself, spitting madly, at Scabbers.

"NO, CROOKSHANKS, NO!" cried the witch, but Scabbers shot from between her hands like a bar of soap, landed splay-legged on the floor, and then scampered for the door.

"Scabbers!" Ron shouted, racing out of the shop after him; Harry and Drew followed. It took them nearly ten minutes to catch Scabbers, who had taken refuge under a wastepaper bin outside Quality Quidditch Supplies.

Ron stuffed the trembling rat back into his pocket and straightened up, massaging his head. "What was that?" "It was either a very big cat or quite a small tiger," said Harry.

"Where's Hermione?" "Probably getting her owl." They made their way back up the crowded street to the Magical Menagerie.

As they reached it, Hermione came out, but she wasn't carrying an owl. Her arms were clamped tightly around the enormous ginger cat.

"You bought that monster?" said Ron, his mouth hanging open. "He's gorgeous, isn't he?" said Hermione, glowing.

The cat's ginger fur was thick and fluffy, but it was definitely a bit bowlegged and its face looked grumpy and oddly squashed, as though it had run headlong into a brick wall.

Now that Scabbers was out of sight, however, the cat was purring contentedly in Hermione's arms.

“Can I hold him?” asked Drew. “Sure you can,“ said Hermione as she handed her cat to Drew. Luckily, this time the cat did not go wild. Drew had once told them that he is a cat-lover.

"Hermione, that thing nearly scalped me!" said Ron. "He didn't mean to, did you, Crookshanks?" said Hermione.

"And what about Scabbers?" said Ron, pointing at the lump in his chest pocket. "He needs rest and relaxation! How's he going to get it with that thing around?"

"That reminds me, you forgot your rat tonic," said Hermione, slapping the small red bottle into Ron's hand as Drew handed Crookshanks back to Hermione. "And stop worrying, Crookshanks will be sleeping in my dormitory and Scabbers in yours, what's the problem? Poor Crookshanks, that witch said he'd been in there for ages; no one wanted him."

"Wonder why," said Ron sarcastically as Drew nudged him. Then, they set off toward the Leaky Cauldron.

They found Mr. Weasley and Drew's aunt, Melinda Halliwell, both sitting in the bar, reading the Daily Prophet.

"Harry/Drew!" Mr. Weasley and Melinda said, smiling as they looked up. "How are you?" askedMMr. Weasley. "Fine, thanks," said Harry as he, Drew, Ron, and Hermione joined Mr. Weasley and Melinda with their shopping.

“Aunt Mel, what are you doing here?”asked Drew. “I have a lunch break so I want to see my cute little nephew,” “Aunt Mel,” muttered Drew as he turned reddish pink. All of them except Drew giggled.

Mr. Weasley put down his paper, and Harry and Drew saw picture of Sirius Black staring up at him. "They still haven't caught him, then?" Harry asked.

"No," said Mr. Weasley, looking extremely grave. "They've pulled us all off our regular jobs at the Ministry to try and find him, but no luck so far. "

"Would we get a reward if we caught him?" asked Ron. "It'd be good to get some more money—" "Don't be ridiculous, Ron," said Mr. Weasley, who on closer inspection looked very strained. "Black's not going to be caught by a thirteen-year-old wizard. It's the Azkaban guards who'll get him back, You mark my words. "

At that moment Mrs. Weasley entered the bar, laden with shopping bags and followed by the twins, Fred and George, who were about to start their fifth year at Hogwarts; the newly elected Head Boy, Percy; and the Weasleys' youngest child and only girl, Ginny.

Ginny, who had always been very taken with Harry, seemed even more heartily embarrassed than usual when she saw him, perhaps because he (and Drew) had saved her life during their previous year at Hogwarts.

She went very red and muttered "hello" without looking at him. Percy, however, held out his hand solemnly as though he and Harry had never met and said, "Harry. Drew. How nice to see you." "Hello, Percy," said Harry, trying not to laugh. Drew also tried hard not to laugh at Percy's antics. 

"I hope you're well?" said Percy pompously, shaking hands. It was rather like being introduced to the mayor. "Very well, thanks—"

"Harry! Drew!" said Fred, elbowing Percy out of the way and bowing deeply. "Simply splendid to see you, old boys—" "Marvelous," said George, pushing Fred aside and seizing Harry's hand in turn. "Absolutely spiffing. "

Percy scowled. "That's enough, now," said Mrs. Weasley. "Mum!" said Fred, as though he'd only just spotted her and seizing her hand, too. "How really corking to see you—"

"I said, that's enough," said Mrs. Weasley, depositing her shopping in an empty chair. "Hello, Drew. Hello, Harry, dear. I suppose you've heard our exciting news?"

She pointed to the brand-new silver badge on Percy's chest. "Second Head Boy in the family!" she said, swelling with pride. "And last," Fred muttered under his breath.

"I don't doubt that," said Mrs. Weasley, frowning suddenly. "I notice they haven't made you two prefects."

"What do we want to be prefects for?" said George, looking revolted at the very idea. "It'd take all the fun out of life."

Ginny giggled. "You want to set a better example for your sister!" snapped Mrs. Weasley. "Ginny's got other brothers to set her an example, Mother," said Percy loftily. "I'm going up to change for dinner..."

He disappeared and George heaved a sigh. "We tried to shut him in a pyramid," he told Harry. "But Mum spotted us." "Nah, trapped him in the Underworld," whispered Drew jokingly. Hermione glared at him.

"Goodbye, Arthur, I have to go," said Melinda, getting up from her stool. "Can't you stay any longer, aunt Mel?" asked Drew. "Sorry, dear but I can't, I have some important things to do," said Melinda. "Bye everyone," Then, she orbed to the Ministry.

Dinner that night was a very enjoyable affair. Tom the innkeeper put three tables together in the parlor, and the seven Weasleys, Harry, Drew and Hermione ate their way through five delicious courses.

"How're we getting to King's Cross tomorrow, Dad?" asked Fred as they dug into a sumptuous chocolate pudding.

"The Ministry's providing a couple of cars," said Mr. Weasley. Everyone looked up at him. "Why?" said Percy curiously.

"It's because of you, Perce," said George seriously. "And there'll be little flags on the hoods, with HB on them—" "—or Humongous Bighead," said Fred.

Everyone except Percy and Mrs. Weasley snorted into their pudding. "Can't we orb, Mr. Weasley?" asked Drew. "Yes, we can but Ron told me about orbing...." Drew looked at Ron in a murderous stare and Ron looked away. "Well then," said Drew calmly as he accidentally blew up his chocolate pudding which made everybody jumped. 

_'What the heck, Ron! You have never even orb before and you already didn't like it!'_

Drew was pretty disappointed. Drew know that Ron didn't fond of orbing but he didn't expect him to tell his whole family about it.

"Why are the Ministry providing cars, Father?" Percy asked again, in a dignified voice. "Well, as we haven't got one anymore," said Mr. Weasley, "and as I work there, they're doing me a favor..."

His voice was casual, but Drew noticed that Mr. Wesley's ears had gone red, just like Ron's did when he was under pressure.

"Good thing, too," said Mrs. Weasley briskly. "Do you realize how much luggage you've all got between you? A nice sight you'd be on the Muggle Underground...You are all packed, aren't you?"

"Ron hasn't put all his new things in his trunk yet," said Percy, in a long-suffering voice. "He's dumped them on my bed. "

"You'd better go and pack properly, Ron, because we won't have much time in the morning," Mrs. Weasley called down the table. Ron scowled at Percy.

After dinner everyone felt very full and sleepy. One by one they made their way upstairs to their rooms to check their things for the next day.

Ron and Percy were next door to Harry and Drew. They had just closed and locked their own trunk when they heard angry voices through the wall, and went to see what was going on.

The door of number twelve was ajar and Percy was shouting. "It was here, on the bedside table, I took it off for polishing—"

"I haven't touched it, all right?" Ron roared back. "What's up?" said Harry. "My Head Boy badge is gone," said Percy, rounding on Harry and Drew.

"So's Scabbers's Rat Tonic," said Ron, throwing things out of his trunk to look. "I think I might've left it in the bar—"

"You're not going anywhere till you've found my badge!" yelled Percy. "I'll get Scabbers's stuff, I'm packed," Harry said to Ron, and he went downstairs. “And I will help you searching it,” said Drew.

Drew tried to summon the badge but it had no result. After a few exhausting minutes, Drew spotted Fred and George were walking down the hallway, one of them was holding a shiny thing; it was—Percy's badge.

“Found it,” said Drew as he pointed at the twin. Percy stormed off the room. "What have you done!" yelled Percy furiously. "We've been improving it." said Fred.

The badge now read Bighead Boy. Ron and Drew chuckled while Percy looked at the badge as though he was being sent to Azkaban for forever. Then, Drew left the room to go to bed.

When he opened the door, he saw Harry lying on the bed, looking pale. "Harry," called Drew. There's no answer. "Harry," There's still no answer.

"Harry!" snapped Drew. "Wha—what?" said Harry as he sat up. "Harry, what's been bothering you? You can tell me," said Drew as he sat next to Harry. 

Harry then bursted out explaining all about Sirius Black, that Black was after him and told him Fudge let him off the hook because Hogwarts was the safest place in the world.

"I bet that sooner or later, Black will find a way to get into Hogwarts," said Harry. "But didn't people always say that Dumbledore was the only person Lord Voldemort had ever been afraid of? Surely Black, as Voldemort's right-hand man, would be just as frightened of him?" said Drew assuringly. "I'm not sure,"

Drew looked at Harry. "Don't worry, Harry. If you are alone or need someone to talk to, I will be there for you; if you are in danger, I will protect you with all my might,"

"Thanks, Drew," said Harry, smiling weakly. "For what?" "For keeping me happy," said Harry and he kissed Drew. They then lied on the bed and they slowly fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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	3. Expect the expected Unexpected (I know, the title is confusing)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drew met his Uncle Remus Lupin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like/Kudos= Pro
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> Comment=Hacker
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> Bookmark=God
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> Ignore=Noob

Tom woke Harry and Drew the next morning with his usual toothless grin and a cup of tea. “Morning, Tom,” said Drew.

“Morning, Mr. Halliwell, and morning to you too, Mr. Potter,” said Tom and he left the room. “Sleep well, Harry?” “Of course, and it is all because of you, Drew,” said Harry sweetly as he kissed Drew's cheek.

Harry and Drew got dressed and was just persuading a disgruntled Hedwig and Cuddles to get back into their cage when Ron banged his way into the room, pulling a sweatshirt over his head and looking irritable.

"The sooner we get on the train, the better," he said. "At least I can get away from Percy at Hogwarts. Now he's accusing me of dripping tea on his photo of Penelope Clearwater. You know," Ron grimaced, "his girlfriend. She's hidden her face under the frame because her nose has gone all blotchy..."

"I've got something to tell you," Harry began, but they were interrupted by Fred and George, who had looked in to congratulate Ron on infuriating Percy again.

They headed down to breakfast, where Mr. Weasley was reading the front page of the Daily Prophet with a furrowed brow and Mrs. Weasley was telling Hermione and Ginny about a love potion she'd made as a young girl. All three of them were rather giggly.

"What were you saying?" Ron asked Harry as they sat down. "Later," Harry muttered as Percy stormed in.

Harry and Drew had no chance to speak to Ron or Hermione in the chaos of leaving; they were too busy heaving all their trunks down the Leaky Cauldron's narrow staircase and piling them up near the door, with Hedwig and Hermes, Percy's screech owl, perched on top in their cages.

A small wickerwork basket stood beside the heap of trunks, spitting loudly. "It's all right, Crookshanks," Hermione cooed through the wickerwork. "I'll let you out on the train." "You won't," snapped Ron. "What about poor Scabbers, eh?"

He pointed at his chest, where a large lump indicated that Scabbers was curled up in his pocket. Mr. Weasley, who had been outside waiting for the Ministry cars, stuck his head inside.

"They're here, he said. "Harry, Drew, come on." Mr. Weasley marched Harry and Drew across the short stretch of pavement toward the first of two old-fashioned dark green cars, each of which was driven by a furtive-looking wizard wearing a suit of emerald velvet.

"In you get, boys," said Mr. Weasley, glancing up and down the crowded street. Harry and Drew got into the back of the car and was shortly joined by Hermione, Ron, and, to Ron's disgust, Percy.

The Ministry of Magic cars seemed almost ordinary. However, Drew noticed that they could slide through gaps which is abnormal.

They reached King's Cross with twenty minutes to spare; the Ministry drivers found them trolleys, unloaded their trunks, touched their hats in salute to Mr. Weasley, and drove away, somehow managing to jump to the head of an unmoving line at the traffic lights.

Mr. Weasley kept close to Harry's elbow all the way into the station. "Right then," he said, glancing around them. "Let's do this in pairs, as there are so many of us. I'll go through first with Harry."

Mr. Weasley strolled toward the barrier between platforms nine and ten, pushing Harry's trolley and apparently very interested in the _InterCity 125_ that had just arrived at platform nine.

With a meaningful look at Harry, he leaned casually against the barrier. He imitated him.

In a moment, they had fallen sideways through the solid metal onto platform nine and three-quarters. Hermione and Drew followed them.

Drew saw the Hogwarts Express, a scarlet steam engine, puffing smoke over a platform packed with witches and wizards seeing their children onto the train.

Percy and Ginny suddenly appeared behind Harry. They were panting and had apparently taken the barrier at a run. "Ah, there's Penelope!" said Percy, smoothing his hair and going pink again.

Ginny caught Harry's and Drew's eye, and they both turned away to hide their laughter as Percy strode over to a girl with long, curly hair, walking with his chest thrown out so that she couldn't miss his shiny badge.

Then, they saw the Halliwells. “Dad!” called Drew loudly, waving his arm. The Halliwells walked towards them.

“Hello, Mr. Halliwell,” greeted Mr. Weasley. “Hello to you too, Mr. Weasley,” said Chris. “Kids, do you have a nice week?” Harry, Drew, Ron and Hermione nodded cheerfully.

Once the remaining Weasleys had joined them, Harry, Drew and Mr. Weasley led the way to the end of the train, past packed compartments, to a carriage that looked quite empty.

They loaded the trunks onto it, stowed Hedwig, Cuddles and Crookshanks in the luggage rack, then went back outside to say goodbye to Drew's fatherMr. and Mrs. Weasley.

Mrs. Weasley kissed all her children, then Hermione, then Drew, and finally Harry. He was embarrassed, but really quite pleased, when she gave him an extra hug.

"Do take care, won't you Harry?" she said as she straightened up, her eyes oddly bright. Then she opened her enormous handbag and said, "I've made you all sandwiches. Here you are, Ron...no, they're not corned beef...Fred? Where's Fred? Here you are dear..."

Drew then saw Mr. Weasley and Harry were having a conversation so he talked to his brothers. “Damien, are you excited?” said Dylan, who will go back to Hogwarts as a second year. “I think so, is it fun there?” “Believe me, with those Weasley twin around, fun will never stop,”

"Arthur!" called Mrs. Weasley, who was now shepherding the rest onto the train. "Arthur, what are you doing? It's about to go!"

"He's coming Molly!" said Mr. Weasley, but he turned back to Harry and kept talking in a lower voice that Drew couldn't even hear what they were talking about.

There was a loud whistle. Guards were walking along the train, slamming all the doors shut. Harry and Mr. Weasley were still talking.

"Arthur, quickly!" cried Mrs. Weasley. Steam was billowing from the train it had started to move. Harry ran to the compartment door and Ron threw it open and stood back to let him on.

They leaned out of the window and waved at Chris Halliwell, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley until the train turned a corner and blocked them from view.

"I need to talk to you in private," Harry muttered to Ron, Drew and Hermione as the train picked up speed. "Go away, Ginny," said Ron. "Oh, that's nice," said Ginny huffily, and she stalked off. “Dylan, Damien, go with Ginny,” said Drew and the brothers followed behind Ginny.

Harry, Drew, Ron, and Hermione set off down the corridor, looking for an empty compartment, but all were full except for the one at the very end of the train.

This had only one occupant, a man sitting fast asleep next to the window. Harry, Drew, Ron, and Hermione checked on the threshold.

The Hogwarts Express was usually reserved for students and they had never seen an adult there before, except for the witch who pushed the food cart.

The stranger was wearing an extremely shabby set of wizard's robes that had been darned in several places. He looked ill and exhausted. Though quite young, his light brown hair was flecked with gray.

"Who d'you reckon he is?" Ron hissed as they sat down and slid the door shut, taking the seats farthest away from the window. "Professor R. J. Lupin. " whispered Hermione at once. "How'd you know that?"

"It's on his case," she replied, pointing at the luggage rack over the man's head, where there was a small, battered case held together with a large quantity of neatly knotted string. The name _Professor R. J. Lupin_ was stamped across one corner in peeling letters.

“Lupin...my uncle is a Lupin too,” said Drew, remembering that he had an uncle named Tyler Lupin. “So you and him are related then?” said Harry. “I guess so,”

"Wonder what he teaches?" said Ron, frowning at Professor Lupin's pallid profile. "That's obvious," whispered Hermione. "There's only one vacancy, isn't there? Defense Against the Dark Arts."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione had already had two Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers, both of whom had lasted only one year. There were rumors that the job was jinxed.

"Well, I hope he's up to it," said Ron doubtfully. "He looks like on, good hex would finish him off, doesn't he? Anyway..." he turned to Harry, "what were you going to tell us?"

Harry explained all about Mr. and Mrs. Wesley's argument and the warning Mr. Weasley had just given him.

When he'd finished, Ron looked thunderstruck, and Hermione had her hands over her mouth while Drew looked calm since Harry had told him.

She finally lowered them to say, "Sirius Black escaped to come after you? Oh, Harry...you'll have to be really, really careful. don't go looking for trouble, Harry..."

"I don't go looking for trouble," said Harry, nettled. "Trouble usually finds me." "How thick would Harry have to be, to go looking for a nutter who wants to kill him?" said Ron shakily.

They were taking the news worse than Harry and Drew had expected. Unlike Drew, both Ron and Hermione seemed to be much more frightened of Black than he was.

"No one knows how he got out of Azkaban," said Ron uncomfortably. "No one's ever done it before. And he was a top-security prisoner too."

"But they'll catch him, won't they?" said Hermione earnestly. "I mean, they've got all the Muggles looking out for him too..." "What's that noise?" said Ron suddenly.

A faint, tinny sort of whistle was coming from somewhere. They looked all around the compartment. "It's coming from your trunk, Harry," said Ron, standing up and reaching into the luggage rack.

A moment later he had pulled the Pocket Sneakoscope out from between Harry's robes. It was spinning very fast in the palm of Ron's hand and glowing brilliantly.

"Is that a Sneakoscope?" said Hermione interestedly, standing up for a better look. "Yeah...mind you, it's a very cheap one," Ron said. "It went haywire just as I was tying it to Errol's leg to send it to Harry."

"What's a Sneakoscope?" asked Drew. "A Sneakoscope is a type of Dark Detector that looks like a glass spinning top. It lights up, spins, and whistles if someone is doing something untrustworthy nearby."

"So were you doing anything untrustworthy at the time, Ron?" said Drew shrewdly. "No! Well...I wasn't supposed to be using Errol. You know he's not really up to long journeys...but how else was I supposed to get Harry's present to him?"

"Stick it back in the trunk," Harry advised as the Sneakoscope whistled piercingly, "or it'll wake him up." He nodded toward Professor Lupin.

Ron stuffed the Sneakoscope into a particularly horrible pair of Harry's uncle's socks, which deadened the sound, then closed the lid of the trunk on it.

"We could get it checked in Hogsmeade," said Ron, sitting back down. "They sell that sort of thing in Dervish and Banges, magical instruments and stuff. Fred and George told me."

"Do you know much about Hogsmeade?" asked Hermione keenly. "I've read it's the only entirely non-Muggle settlement in Britain—"

"Yeah, I think it is," said Ron in an offhand sort of way. "but that's not why I want to go. I just want to get inside Honeydukes!"

"What's that?" said Hermione. "It's this sweetshop," said Ron, a dreamy look coming over his face, "where they've got everything...Pepper Imps—they make you smoke at the mouth—and great fat Chocoballs full of strawberry mousse and clotted cream, and really excellent sugar quills, which you can suck in class and just look like you're thinking what to write next,"

"But Hogsmeade's a very interesting place, isn't it?" Hermione pressed on eagerly. "In Sites of Historical Sorcery it says the inn was the headquarters for the 1612 goblin rebellion, and the Shrieking Shack's supposed to be the most severely haunted building in Britain—"

"and massive sherbet balls that make you levitate a few inches off the ground while you're sucking them," said Ron, who was plainly not listening to a word Hermione was saying.

Hermione looked around at Harry. "Won't it be nice to get out of school for a bit and explore Hogsmeade?" "'Spect it will," said Harry heavily. "You'll have to tell me when you've found out." "What d'you mean?" said Ron.

"I can't go. The Dursleys didn't sign my permission form, and Fudge wouldn't either." Drew and Ron looked horrified. "You're not allowed to come? But—no way—McGonagall or someone will give you permission—"

Harry gave a hollow laugh. Professor McGonagall, head of Gryffindor house, was very strict. "or we can ask Fred and George, they know every secret passage out of the castle—"

"Ron!" said Hermione sharply. "I don't think Harry should be sneaking out of the school with Black on the loose—"

"Yeah, I expect that's what McGonagall will say when I ask of permission," said Harry bitterly. "But if we're with him," said Ron spiritedly to Hermione. "Black wouldn't dare—"

"Oh, Ron, don't talk rubbish," snapped Hermione. "Black's already murdered a whole bunch of people in the middle of a crowded street, do you really think he's going to worry about attacking Harry just because we're there?"

“But I can protect Harry, I can orb Harry to the school if we bumped into Black; I can freeze Black,” said Drew desperately. “I-I can throw a fireball at him—”

“But what if Black caught you off-guard?” said Hermione. She was fumbling with the straps of Crookshanks's basket as she spoke.

"Don't let that thing out!" Ron said, but too late; Crookshanks leapt lightly from the basket, stretched, yawned, and sprang onto Ron's knees; the lump in Ron's pocket trembled and he shoved Crookshanks angrily away.

"Get out of it!" "Ron, don't!" said Hermione angrily. Ron was about to answer back when Professor Lupin stirred.

They watched him apprehensively, but he simply turned his head the other way, mouth slightly open, and slept on.

The Hogwarts Express moved steadily north and the scenery outside the window became wilder and darker while the clouds overhead thickened overhead.

People were chasing backwards and forwards past the door of their compartment. Crookshanks had now settled in an empty seat, his squashed face turned towards Ron, his yellow eyes on Ron's top pocket.

At one o'clock the plump witch with the food cart arrived at the compartment door. "D'you think we should wake him up?" Ron asked awkwardly, nodding towards Professor Lupin. "He looks like he could do with some food."

Hermione approached Professor Lupin cautiously. "Er—Professor?" she said. "Excuse me—Professor?" He didn't move.

"Don't worry, dear," said the witch, as she handed a large stack of cauldron cakes. "If he's hungry when he wakes, I'll be up front with the driver."

"I suppose he is asleep?" said Ron quietly, as the witch slid the compartment door closed. "I mean—he hasn't died, has he?" "No, no, he's breathing," whispered Hermione, taking the cauldron cake Harry passed her.

He might not be very good company, but Professor Lupin's presence in their compartment had its uses. Mid-afternoon, just as it had started to rain, blurring the rolling hills outside the window, they heard footsteps outside in the corridor again, and their three least favorite people appeared at the door: Draco Malfoy, flanked by his cronies, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle.

Draco Malfoy and The Quartet had been enemies ever since they had met on their very first journey to Hogwarts.

Malfoy, who had a pale, pointed, sneering face, was in Slytherin house; he played Seeker on the Slytherin Quidditch team, the same position that Harry played on the Gryffindor team.

Crabbe and Goyle seemed to exist to do Malfoy's bidding. They were both wide and muscly; Crabbe was taller, with a pudding-bowl haircut and a very thick neck; Goyle had short, bristly hair and long, gorilla arms.

"Well, look who it is," said Malfoy in his usual lazy drawl, pulling open the compartment door. "Potty, Hollowell, and the Weasel." Crabbe and Goyle chuckled trollishly.

"I heard your father finally got his hands on some gold this summer, Weasley," said Malfoy. "Did your mother die of shock?"

Ron stood up so quickly he knocked Crookshanks's basket to the floor. Professor Lupin gave a snort.

"Who's that?" said Malfoy, taking an automatic step backward as he spotted Lupin. "New teacher," said Harry, who got to his feet, too, in case he needed to hold Ron back. "What were you saying, Malfoy?"

Malfoy's pale eyes narrowed; he wasn't fool enough to pick a fight right under a teacher's nose. "C'mon," he muttered resentfully to Crabbe and Goyle, and they disappeared.

Harry and Ron sat down again, Ron massaging his knuckles. "I'm not going to take any crap from Malfoy this year," he said angrily. "I mean it. If he makes one more crack about my family, I'm going to get hold of his head and—"

Ron made a violent gesture in midair. "Ron," hissed Hermione, pointing at Professor Lupin, "be careful..." But Professor Lupin was still fast asleep.

The rain thickened as the train sped yet farther north; the windows were now a solid, shimmering gray, which gradually darkened until lanterns flickered into life all along the corridors and over the luggage racks.

The train rattled, the rain hammered, the wind roared, but still, Professor Lupin slept. "We must be nearly there," said Ron, leaning forward to look past Professor Lupin at the now completely black window.

The words had hardly left him when the train started to slow down. "Great," said Ron, getting up and walking carefully past Professor Lupin to try and see outside. "I'm starving. I want to get to the feast..."

"We can't be there yet," said Hermione, checking her watch. "So why're we stopping?" The train was getting slower and slower.

As the noise of the pistons fell away, the wind and rain sounded louder than ever against the windows.

Harry and Drew, who were nearest the door, got up to look into the corridor. All along the carriage, heads were sticking curiously out of their compartments.

The train came to a stop with a jolt, and distant thuds and bangs told them that luggage had fallen out of the racks. Then, without warning, all the lamps went out and they were plunged into total darkness.

"What's going on?" said Ron's voice from behind Harry. "Ouch!" gasped Hermione. "Ron, that was my foot!" "I couldn't see anything," said Drew.

Harry felt his way back to his seat. "D'you think we've broken down?" "Dunno..." There was a squeaking sound, and Drew saw the dim black outline of Ron, wiping a patch clean on the window and peering out.

"There's something moving out there," Ron said. "I think people are coming aboard..." The compartment door suddenly opened and someone fell painfully over Harry's legs.

"Sorry! D'you know what's going on? Ouch! Sorry—" "Ouch! Neville, you stepped on my foot!" "Sorry, Peter," "Hullo, Peter, Neville," said Harry, feeling around in the dark and pulling Neville up by his cloak. "Harry? Is that you? What's happening?" "No idea! Sit down—"

There was a loud hissing and a yelp of pain; Neville had tried to sit on Crookshanks. "I'm going to go and ask the driver what's going on," came Hermione's voice.

Drew felt her pass him, heard the door slide open again, and then a thud and four loud squeals of pain. "Ouch!" "Who's that?"

"Who's that?" "Ginny? Dylan? Damien?" "Hermione?" "What are you doing?" "We were looking for our brothers—" "Come in and sit down—" "Not here!" said Harry hurriedly. "I'm here!"

"Ouch!" said Neville. "Quiet!" said a hoarse voice suddenly. Professor Lupin appeared to have woken up at last. Drew could hear movements in his corner.

None of them spoke. There was a soft, crackling noise, and a shivering light filled the compartment. Professor Lupin appeared to be holding a handful of flames just like Drew did when he conjured a fireball. Speaking of Drew, why didn't he conjure a fireball earlier?

They illuminated his tired, gray face, but his eyes looked alert and wary. "Stay where you are." he said in the same hoarse voice, and he got slowly to his feet with his handful of fire held out in front of him.

But the door slid slowly open before Lupin could reach it. Standing in the doorway, illuminated by the shivering flames in Lupin's hand, was a cloaked figure that towered to the ceiling.

Its face was completely hidden beneath its hood. Harry's eyes darted downward, and what he saw made his stomach contract.

There was a hand protruding from the cloak and it was glistening, grayish, slimy-looking, and scabbed, like something dead that had decayed in water....

But it was visible only for a split second. As though the creature beneath the cloak sensed Harry's gaze, the hand was suddenly withdrawn into the folds of its black cloak.

And then the thing beneath the hood, whatever it was, drew a long, slow, rattling breath, as though it were trying to suck something more than air from its surroundings.

An intense cold swept over them all. Drew felt his own breath catch in his chest. He was shivering madly. The cold went deeper than his skin. It was inside his chest, it was inside his very heart...

Suddenly, Drew heard a scream—a woman's scream. Then, Harry twitched a little and fell onto Drew's lap. "Harry!" called Drew. Harry had fainted, his eyes were closed and his body was cold.

Everyone looked at Harry in concern. "Harry!" called Drew again but Harry still lying unconscious on Drew's lap. Professor Lupin stepped over Harry and walked toward the cloaked figure, then he pulled out his wand.

"None of us is hiding Sirius Black under our cloaks. Go." said Professor Lupin. But the figure didn't move. Lupin then muttered something, and a silvery blue of mist shot out of his wand at it, and the figure turned around and glided away.

The Professor turned to Harry. "Is he ok?" Drew asked Professor Lupin. He looked at Harry then turned to Drew.

"He's just fainted, he's fine," The floor suddenly was shaking—the Hogwarts Express was moving again and the lights had come back on.

Hermione and Ron kneeled next to Harry. "Harry! Harry! Are you all right?" Hermione was slapping his face. "W-what?"

Harry opened his eyes. He was very pale, he looked very shocked and scared. He put up his hand to push his glasses back on. Drew, Ron and Hermione heaved him back onto his seat.

"Are you okay?" Ron asked nervously. "Yeah," said Harry, looking quickly toward the door. The hooded creature had vanished. "What happened? Where's that—that thing? Who screamed?"

"No one screamed," said Ron, more nervously still. Harry looked around the bright compartment. Peter, Ginny, Dylan, Damien and Neville looked back at him, four of them was very pale.

"I heard someone screaming too," said Drew. "You did?" said Harry. A loud snap made them all jump. Professor Lupin was breaking an enormous slab of chocolate into pieces.

"Here," he said to Harry, handing him a particularly large piece. "Eat it. It'll help." Harry took the chocolate but didn't eat it. "What was that thing?" he asked Lupin.

"A Dementor," said Lupin, who was now giving chocolate to everyone else. "One of the Dementors of Azkaban." Everyone stared at him. Professor Lupin crumpled up the empty chocolate wrapper and put it in his pocket.

"Eat," he repeated. "It'll help. I need to speak to the driver, excuse me..." He strolled past Harry and Drew and disappeared into the corridor. "Are you sure you're okay, Harry?" said Hermione, watching Harry anxiously.

"I don't get it...what happened?" said Harry, wiping more sweat off his face. "Well—that thing—the Dementor—stood there and looked around (I mean, I think it did, I couldn't see its face)—and you—you—"

"I thought you were having a fit or something," said Ron, who still looked scared. "You went sort of rigid and fell out of your seat and started twitching—"

"It was horrible," said Neville, in a higher voice than usual. "Did you feel how cold it got when it came in?" "It was horrible," said Peter.

"I felt weird," said Ron, shifting his shoulders uncomfortably. "Like I'd never be cheerful again..."

Ginny, who was huddled in her corner looking nearly as bad as Harry felt, gave a small sob; Hermione went over and put a comforting arm around her.

Drew looked at his brothers, who were shivering, then Drew turned to everybody, he raised his left hand and a bright light shot out of his hand. The light almost blinded everybody in the compartment.

"What's that?" said Harry. "I kinda healed you guys," said Drew. "Did it work?" "Actually, yeah, I feel warmer and safer," said Ron. "Thank you, brother," said Dylan.

"But didn't any of you—fall off your seats?" said Harry awkwardly. "No," said Ron, looking anxiously at Harry again. "Ginny was shaking like mad, though..."

Harry looked puzzled. "We almost fainted too, you know," said Drew. "You said that to comfort me," "No, he's right."

Everybody turned around; Professor Lupin had come back. "I had checked on a few students just now and they said it was horrible they almost passed out."

He paused as he entered, looked around, and said, with a small smile, "I haven't poisoned that chocolate, you know..." Harry took a bite and Drew saw Harry's face brightened.

"We'll be at Hogwarts in ten minutes," said Professor Lupin. "Are you all right, Harry?" "Fine," he muttered, embarrassed.

"Drew, can I talk to you outside?" asked Professor Lupin. Drew didn't even bother to ask him how he knew his name.

They went outside the compartment. "So you're Tyler's nephew?" asked Professor Lupin. "Yes, sir," said Drew. Lupin chuckled and said,

"Don't call me 'sir', Drew. Call me Uncle Remus," "Ok, Uncle Remus," said Drew, smiling weakly. "Uncle Remus, have we met me before?" "Yes, when you are just one year old," "So you have met my family?"

"Yes, and I like your grandmother Piper the most," said Remus. "I daresay that Piper's cooking is way better than Hogwarts's," "I know right." chuckled Drew.

Remus looked at Drew dreamily. "You are just like her," he told Drew. "Who?" "Your mother," Drew looked at his uncle. "How is she? It's been so long since the last time I met her,"

"She..." said Drew sadly. "She's...gone," "Oh, I'm very sorry—" "It's fine, you don't know," Remus looked at his nephew apologetically. "Should we go inside?" Drew nodded and went back inside the compartment.

They didn't talk much during the remainder of the journey. At long last, the train stopped at Hogsmeade station, and there was a great scramble to get outside; owls hooted, cats meowed, and Neville's pet toad croaked loudly from under his hat. It was freezing on the tiny platform; rain was driving down in icy sheets.

"Firs' years this way!" called a familiar voice. Harry, Drew, Ron, and Hermione turned and saw the gigantic outline of Hagrid at the other end of the platform, beckoning the terrified-looking new students forward for their traditional journey across the lake.

"All right, you four?" Hagrid yelled over the heads of the crowd. They waved at him, but had no chance to speak to him because the mass of people around them was shunting them away along the platform.

Harry, Drew, Ron, and Hermione followed the rest of the school along the platform and out onto a rough mud track, where at least a hundred stagecoaches awaited the remaining students, each pulled, by an invisible horse.

When they climbed inside and shut the door, the coach set off all by itself, bumping and swaying in procession.

The coach smelled faintly of mold and straw. Harry looked better since the chocolate, but still weak. Ron, Drew and Hermione kept looking at him sideways, as though frightened he might collapse again.

As the carriage trundled toward a pair of magnificent wrought iron gates, flanked with stone columns topped with winged boars, Drew saw two more towering, hooded Dementors, standing guard on either side.

Drew felt a wave of cold sickness passed through his body. He saw Harry leaned back into the lumpy seat and closed his eyes until they had passed the gates.

The carriage picked up speed on the long, sloping drive up to the castle; Hermione was leaning out of the tiny window, watching the many turrets and towers draw nearer. At last, the carriage swayed to a halt, and Hermione, Drew and Ron got out.

As Harry stepped down, a drawling, delighted voice sounded in his ear. "You fainted, Potter? Is Longbottorn telling the truth? You actually fainted?"

Malfoy elbowed past Hermione to block Harry's way up the stone steps to the castle, his face gleeful and his pale eyes glinting maliciously.

"Shove off, Malfoy," said Ron, whose jaw was clenched. "Did you faint as well, Weasley?" said Malfoy loudly. "Did the scary old Dementor frighten you too, Weasley?" "Fuck off, ferret," said Drew darkly.

"Is there a problem?" said a mild voice. Professor Lupin had just gotten out of the next carriage. Malfoy gave Professor Lupin an insolent stare, which took in the patches on his robes and the dilapidated suitcase.

With a tiny hint of sarcasm in his voice, he said, "Oh, no—er—Professor," then he smirked at Crabbe and Goyle and led them up the steps into the castle.

Hermione prodded Ron in the back to make him hurry, and the four of them joined the crowd swarming up the steps, through the giant oak front doors, into the cavernous Entrance Hall, which was lit with flaming torches, and housed a magnificent marble staircase that led to the upper floors.

The door into the Great Hall stood open at the right; Harry followed the crowd toward it, but had barely glimpsed the enchanted ceiling, which was black and cloudy tonight, when a voice called, "Potter! Granger! I want to see you both!"

Harry and Hermione turned around, surprised. Professor McGonagall, Transfiguration teacher and head of Gryffindor House, was calling over the heads of the crowd.

She was a stern looking witch who wore her hair in a tight bun; her sharp eyes were framed with square spectacles. Harry and Hermione fought their way over to her.

"There's no need to look so worried—I just want a word in my office," she told them. "Move along there, Weasley, Halliwell."

Ron and Drew stared as Professor McGonagall ushered Harry and Hermione away from the chattering crowd.

"Come on, let's save them two seats," said Drew. Ron nodded and they walked towards the Gryffindor table.

As they were waiting for their friends and having a small talk, they saw the Charms teacher, Professor Flitwick. Next to him, there was a three-legged stool, with the Sorting Hat on top of it.

"He must be replacing McGonagall," said Drew. It usually was Professor McGonagall who did the Sorting. Just like last year, Drew didn't pay attention to the song, nor the Sorting.

He only wanted to hear what house will his brother be in.

"Halliwell, Damien!" squealed Professor Flitwick.

Everyone bursted out whispering. "I bet he will be in Gryffindor," said a Ravenclaw dully. "Ughh, another Halliwell, are you kidding me?" said a Slytherin, looking annoyed.

Damien walked towards the Hat and sat on the stool. He put the Sorting Hat on his head. A few minutes later, the hat finally shouted,

"SLYTHERIN!"

The hall went silent. Drew and Dylan looked at Damien as if a Dementor had passed by. Damien got up and walked nervously towards the Slytherin table with eyes staring at him.

"Er—Vane, Romilda!" continued Professor Flitwick. After the Sorting had finished, Professor Flitwick, was carrying an ancient hat and a three-legged stool out of the hall.

Drew saw Hermione and Harry came back. "Oh," said Hermione softly, "we've missed the Sorting!" Professor McGonagall strode off toward her empty seat at the staff table, and Harry and Hermione set off in the other direction, as quietly as possible, toward the Gryffindor table.

People looked around at them as they passed along the back of the hall, and a few of them pointed at Harry. Had the story of his collapsing in front of the Dementor traveled that fast?

He and Hermione sat down on either side of Ron and Drew, who had saved them seats. "What was all that about?" he muttered to Harry.

Harry started to explain in a whisper, but at that moment the headmaster stood up to speak, and he broke off.

Professor Dumbledore, though very old, always gave an impression of great energy. He had several feet of long silver hair and beard, half-moon spectacles, and an extremely crooked nose.

He was often described as the greatest wizard of the age, but that wasn't why Drew respected him. You couldn't help trusting Albus Dumbledore, and as Harry watched him beaming around at the students, he felt really calm for the first time since the Dementor had entered the train compartment.

"Welcome!" said Dumbledore, the candlelight shimmering on his beard. "Welcome to another year at Hogwarts! I have a few things to say to you all, and as one of them is very serious, I think it best to get it out of the way before you become befuddled by our excellent feast..."

Dumbledore cleared his throat and continued, "As you will all be aware after their search of the Hogwarts Express, our school is presently playing host to some of the Dementors of Azkaban, who are here on Ministry of Magic business."

He paused, and Drew remembered what Harry had said to him about Mr. Weasley had said about Dumbledore not being happy with the Dementors guarding the school.

"They are stationed at every entrance to the grounds," Dumbledore continued, "and while they are with us, I must make it plain that nobody is to leave school without permission. Dementors are not to be fooled by tricks or disguises—or even Invisibility Cloaks," he added blandly, and Harry, Drew and Ron glanced at one other. "Orbing also won't work," Drew and Dylan nodded nervously.

"It is not in the nature of a Dementor to understand pleading or excuses. I therefore warn each and every one of you to give them no reason to harm you. I look to the prefects, and our new Head Boy and Girl, to make sure that no student runs afoul of the Dementors," he said.

Percy, who was sitting a few seats down from Harry, puffed out his chest again and stared around impressively.

Dumbledore paused again; he looked very seriously around the hall, and nobody moved or made a sound.

"On a happier note," he continued, I am pleased to welcome three new teachers to our ranks this year. "First, I am so sorry to tell you that our Professor Binns, our History of Magic teacher, had eventually 'moved on' but no worries, his place will be filled by Penny Halliwell herself."

The Halliwell brothers were jaw-dropped and everybody else looked shocked as there were a swirl of yellow orbs coming down from the sky, the orbs disappeared and Penny Halliwell was now in Professor Binns's seat.

"I can't believe it," said Drew happily. "Grams is our new teacher!" The Halliwell brothers were clapping loudly their hands started to hurt.

Dumbledore continued when the applause died away, "Secondly, Professor Lupin, who has kindly consented to fill the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."

There was some scattered, rather unenthusiastic applause. Only those who had been in the compartment on the train with Professor Lupin clapped hard, Harry and Drew among them. Professor Lupin looked particularly shabby next to all the other teachers in their best robes.

"Look at Snape!" Ron hissed in Harry's and Drew's ear. Professor Snape, the Potions master, was staring along the staff table at Professor Lupin.

Everybody knew that Snape wanted the Defense Against the Dark Arts job so badly, but even Drew, who hated Snape, was startled at the expression twisting his thin, sallow face, it was beyond anger: it was loathing.

"As to our third and last new appointment," Dumbledore continued as the lukewarm applause for Professor Lupin died away. "Well, once again, I am sorry to tell you that Professor Kettleburn, our Care of Magical Creatures teacher, retired at the end of last year in order to enjoy more time with his remaining limbs. However, I am delighted to say that his place will be filled by none other than Rubeus Hagrid, who has agreed to take on this teaching job in addition to his gamekeeping duties."

Harry, Drew, Ron, and Hermione stared at one another, stunned. Then they joined in with the applause, which was tumultuous at the Gryffindor table in particular.

Drew leaned forward to see Hagrid, who was ruby red in the face and staring down at his enormous hands, his wide grin hidden in the tangle of his black beard.

"We should've known!" Ron roared, pounding the table. "Who else would have assigned us a biting book?" Harry, Drew, Ron, and Hermione were the last to stop clapping, and as Professor Dumbledore started speaking again, they saw that Hagrid was wiping his eyes on the tablecloth.

"Well, I think that's everything of importance," said Dumbledore. "Let the feast begin!" The golden plates and goblets before them filled suddenly with food and drink. Drew, suddenly ravenous, helped himself to everything he could reach and began to eat.

"Hey, Drew. I haven't seen Damien, where is he?" asked Hermione. "He is in Slytherin," said Ron disgustingly. "Oh,"

It was a delicious feast; the hall echoed with talk, laughter, and the clatter of knives and forks. Harry, Ron, and Hermione, however, were eager for it to finish so that they could talk to Hagrid.

They knew how much being made a teacher would mean to him. Hagrid wasn't a fully qualified wizard; he had been expelled from Hogwarts in his third year for a crime he had not committed.

It had been Harry, Drew, Ron, and Hermione who had cleared Hagrid's name last year. At long last, when the last morsels of pumpkin tart had melted from the golden platters, Dumbledore gave the word that it was time for them all to go to bed, and they got their chance.

"Congratulations, Hagrid!" Hermione squealed as they reached the teachers' table. "All down ter you four," said Hagrid, wiping his shining face on his napkin as he looked up at them. "Can' believe it...great man, Dumbledore...came straight down to me hut after Professor Kettleburn said he'd had enough...It's what I always wanted..."

Overcome with emotion, he buried his face in his napkin, and Professor McGonagall shooed them away. Drew then looked at Grams who was staring at Drew with proud.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione joined the Gryffindors streaming up the marble staircase and, very tired now, along more corridors, up more and more stairs, to the hidden entrance to Gryffindor Tower, where a large portrait of a fat lady in a pink dress asked them, "Password?"

"Coming through, coming through!" Percy called from behind the crowd. "The new password's Fortuna Major!" "Oh no," said Neville Longbottom sadly. He always had trouble remembering the passwords.

Through the portrait hole and across the common room, the girls and boys divided toward their separate staircases.

Drew climbed the spiral stair with no thought in his head except how glad he was to be back.

They reached their familiar, circular dormitory with its five four-poster beds. Before they go to sleep, Harry gave Drew a kiss on the lip which made everyone else except Ron looked at them sweetly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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	4. Teen's Play

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drew got his first premonition. He also saved Malfoy from being "killed" by Buckbeak

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like/Kudos= Pro
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> Comment=Hacker
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When Harry, Drew, Ron, and Hermione entered the Great Hall for breakfast the next day, the first thing they saw was Draco Malfoy, who seemed to be entertaining a large group of Slytherins with a very funny story.

As they passed, Malfoy did a ridiculous impression of a swooning fit and there was a roar of laughter. "Ignore him," said Hermione, who was right behind Harry. "Just ignore him, it's not worth it..."

"Hey, Potter!" shrieked Pansy Parkinson, a Slytherin girl with a face like a pug. "Potter! The Dementors are coming, Potter! Woooooooooo!"

"Well, I bet the Dementors glided away with fear when they saw your face, Pugkinson," teased Drew. Harry and Ron sniggered while Parkinson was now glaring at Drew.

Drew dropped into a seat at the Gryffindor table, next to Harry, and next to him, there was George Weasley. "New third-year course schedules," said George, passing then, over. "What's up with you, Harry?"

"Malfoy," said Ron, sitting down on George's other side and glaring over at the Slytherin table. George looked up in time to see Malfoy pretending to faint with terror again.

"That little git," he said calmly. "He wasn't so cocky last night when the Dementors were down at our end of the train. Came running into our compartment, didn't he, Fred?"

"Nearly wet himself," said Fred, with a contemptuous glance at Malfoy. "I wasn't too happy myself," said George. "They're horrible things, those Dementors..." "Sort of freeze your insides, don't they?" said Fred. "You didn't pass out, though, did you?" said Harry in a low voice.

"Forget it, Harry," said George bracingly. "Dad had to go out to Azkaban one time, remember, Fred? And he said it was the worst place he'd ever been, he came back all weak and shaking...They suck the happiness out of a place, Dementors. Most of the prisoners go mad in there."

"Anyway, we'll see how happy Malfoy looks after our first Quidditch match," said Fred. "Gryffindor versus Slytherin, first game of the season, remember?"

The only time Harry and Malfoy had faced each other in a Quidditch match, Malfoy had definitely come off worse. Feeling slightly more cheerful, Harry helped himself to sausages and fried tomatoes.

Hermione was examining her new schedule. "Ooh, good, we're starting some new subjects today," she said happily.

"Hermione," said Ron, frowning as he looked over her shoulder, "they've messed up your timetable. Look—they've got you down for about ten subjects a day. There isn't enough time. "

"I'll manage. I've fixed it all with Professor McGonagall." "But look," said Ron, laughing, "see this morning? Nine o'clock, Divination. And underneath, nine o'clock, Muggle Studies. And—"

Ron leaned closer to the timetable, disbelieving, "look—underneath that, Arithmancy, nine o'clock. I mean, I know you're good, Hermione, but no one's that good. How're you supposed to be in three classes at once?"

"Don't be silly," said Hermione shortly. "Of course I won't be in three classes at once." "Well then—" "Pass the marmalade," said Hermione. "But—"

"Oh, Ron, what's it to you if my timetable's a bit full?" Hermione snapped. "I told you, I've fixed it all with Professor McGonagall."

Just then, Hagrid entered the Great Hall. He was wearing his long moleskin overcoat and was absent-mindedly swinging a dead polecat from one enormous hand.

"All righ'?" he said eagerly, pausing on his way to the staff table. "Yer in my firs' ever lesson! Right after lunch! Bin up since five getting' everthin' ready...hope it's Ok...me, a teacher...hones'ly..."

He grinned broadly at them and headed off to the staff table, still swinging the polecat. "Wonder what he's been getting ready?" said Ron, a note of anxiety in his voice.

The Hall was starting to empty as people headed off towards their first lesson. Ron checked his schedule. "We'd better go, look, Divination's at the top of North Tower. It'll take us ten minutes to get there..."

They finished breakfast hastily, said goodbye to Fred and George and walked back through the hall. As they passed the Slytherin table, Malfoy did yet another impression of a fainting fit. The shouts of laughter followed Harry into the Entrance Hall.

The journey through the castle to North Tower was a long one. Two years at Hogwarts hadn't taught them everything about the castle, and they had never been inside North Tower before.

"There's—got—to—be—a—short—cut," Ron panted, as they climbed the seventh long staircase and emerged on an unfamiliar landing, where there was nothing but a large painting of a bare stretch of grass hanging on the stone wall. "Drew—can't—you—orb—us?" panted Harry. "No—can—do—Harry," Drew paused. "Personal—gain,"

"I think it's this way," said Hermione, peering down the empty passage to the right. "Can't be," said Ron. "That's south. Look, you can see a bit of the lake outside the window..."

Drew was watching the painting. A fat, dappled-gray pony had just ambled onto the grass and was grazing nonchalantly.

Drew was used to the subjects of Hogwarts paintings moving around and leaving their frames to visit each other, but he always enjoyed watching them.

A moment later, a short, squat knight in a suit of armour had clanked into the picture after his pony. By the look of the grass stains on his metal knees, he had just fallen off.

"Aha!" he yelled, seeing Harry, Drew, Ron and Hermione. "What villains are these, that trespass upon my private lands! Come to scorn at my fall, perchance? Draw, you knaves, you dogs!"

They watched in astonishment as the little knight tugged his sword out of its scabbard and began brandishing it violently, hopping up and down in rage.

But the sword was too long for him; a particularly wild swing made him overbalance, and he landed facedown in the grass.

"Are you all right?" said Harry, moving closer to the picture. "Get back, you scurvy braggart! Back, you rogue!"

The knight seized his sword again and used it to push himself back up, but the blade sank deeply into the grass and, though he pulled with all his might, he couldn't get it out again.

Finally, he had to flop back down onto the grass and push up his visor to mop his sweating face. "Listen," said Harry, taking advantage of the knight's exhaustion, "we're looking for the North Tower. You don't know the way, do you?"

"A quest!" The knight's rage seemed to vanish instantly. He clanked to his feet and shouted, "Come follow me, dear friends, and we shall find our goal, or else shall perish bravely in the charge!"

He gave the sword another fruitless tug, tried and failed to mount the fat pony, gave up, and cried, "On foot then, good sirs and gentle lady! On! On!"

And he ran, clanking loudly, into the left side of the frame and out of sight. _'What a drama king,'_ Drew thought.

They hurried after him along the corridor, following the sound of his armor. Every now and then they spotted him running through a picture ahead.

"Be of stout heart, the worst is yet to come!" yelled the knight, and they saw him reappear in front of an alarmed group of women in crinolines, whose picture hung on the wall of a narrow spiral staircase.

Puffing loudly, Harry, Drew, Ron, and Hermione climbed the tightly spiraling steps, getting dizzier and dizzier, until at last they heard the murmur of voices above them and knew they had reached the classroom.

"Farewell!" cried the knight, popping his head into a painting of some sinister-looking monks. "Farewell, my comrades-in-arms! If ever you have need of noble heart and steely sinew, call upon Sir Cadogan!"

"Yeah, we'll call you," muttered Ron as the knight disappeared, "if we ever need someone mental." Drew elbowed him. "Don't be rude, Ron,"

They climbed the last few steps and emerged onto a tiny landing, where most of the class was already assembled.

There were no doors off this landing, but Ron nudged Harry and pointed at the ceiling, where there was a circular trapdoor with a brass plaque on it.

"' _Sibyll Trelawney, Divination teacher_ ,'" Harry read. "How're we supposed to get up there?" As though in answer to his question, the trapdoor suddenly opened, and a silvery ladder descended right at Harry's feet. Everyone got quiet.

"After you," said Ron, grinning, so Harry climbed the ladder first. Then, Drew followed him. He emerged into the strangest-looking classroom he had ever seen.

In fact, it didn't look like a classroom at all, more like a cross between someone's attic and an old-fashioned tea shop.

At least twenty small, circular tables were crammed inside it, all surrounded by chintz armchairs and fat little poufs.

Everything was lit with a dim, crimson light; the curtains at the windows were all closed, and the many lamps were draped with dark red scarves.

It was stiflingly warm, and the fire that was burning under the crowded mantelpiece was giving off a heavy, sickly sort of perfume as it heated a large copper kettle.

The shelves running around the circular walls were crammed with dusty-looking feathers, stubs of candles, many packs of tattered playing cards, countless silvery crystal balls, and a huge array of teacups.

Ron appeared at Drew's shoulder as the class assembled around them, all talking in whispers.

"Where is she?" Ron said. A voice came suddenly out of the shadows, a soft, misty sort of voice. "Welcome," it said. "How nice to see you in the physical world at last. "

Drew's immediate impression was of a large, glittering insect. Professor Trelawney moved into the firelight, and they saw that she was very thin; her large glasses magnified her eyes to several times their natural size, and she was draped in a gauzy spangled shawl.

Innumerable chains and beads hung around her spindly neck, and her arms and hands were encrusted with bangles and rings.

"Sit, my children, sit," she said, and they all climbed awkwardly into armchairs or sank onto poufs. Harry, Drew, Ron, and Hermione sat themselves around the same round table.

"Welcome to Divination," said Professor Trelawney, who had seated herself in a winged armchair in front of the fire.

"My name is Professor Trelawney. You may not have seen me before. I find that descending too often into the hustle and bustle of the main school clouds my Inner Eye."

Nobody said anything to this extraordinary pronouncement. Professor Trelawney delicately rearranged her shawl and continued, "So you have chosen to study Divination, the most difficult of all magical arts. I must warn you at the outset that if you do not have the Sight, there is very little I will be able to teach you...Books can take you only so far in this field..."

At these words, Harry, Drew and Ron glanced, grinning, at Hermione, who looked startled at the news that books wouldn't be much help in this subject.

"Many witches and wizards, talented though they are in the area of loud bangs and smells and sudden disappearings, are yet unable to penetrate the veiled mysteries of the future,"

Professor Trelawney went on, her enormous, gleaming eyes moving from face to nervous face. "It is a Gift granted to few. You, boy," she said suddenly to Neville, who almost toppled off his pouf. "Is your grandmother well?"

"I think so," said Neville tremulously. "I wouldn't be so sure if I were you, dear," said Professor Trelawney, the firelight glinting on her long emerald earrings. Neville gulped.

Professor Trelawney then turned to Drew. "Drew Halliwell," said Professor Trelawney. "I see some great potential in you, can you do me a favor, my dear?"

Drew nodded awkwardly. "Show me a premonition," said Professor Trelawney calmly. "But I can't, I didn't have the power," said Drew as he accidentally touched Harry who was sitting beside him. The next thing he knew was he had been sucked into a premonition.

"Hi, I am Harry Potter," Harry held out his hand and Drew shake it. It showed the time when Harry first met Drew. "Hi, I am Drew Halliwell, nice to meet you,"

The premonition changed into another scene. This time it showed the time when Harry and Drew fought Quirrell. Harry jumped to his feet, caught Quirrell by the arm, and hung on as tight as he could.

Quirrell screamed and tried to throw Harry off—the pain in Harry's head was building he couldn't see—he could only hear Quirrell's terrible shrieks and Voldemort's yells of, "KILL HIM! KILL HIM!"

Then, it showed Harry and Drew in bed together side by side. “I love you Drew, I love you with all my heart.” Harry said. “I love you too Harry.” said Drew.

As Drew gave Harry a kiss on the cheek, the premonition changed into another scene of them together. Both of them were in the Chamber of Secrets.

Harry was lying unconscious next to Drew. Suddenly, Harry wordlessly opened his eyes. “Harry!” cried Drew as he hugged Harry tightly.

“Harry, I thought—I thought I lost you,” “Drew....” said Harry. “I'm sorry if I scared y—” “Scared? I was traumatised!”

The surroundings suddenly turned dark and Drew opened his eyes, he saw everyone were staring at him. "That will do enough," said Professor Trelawney, grinning. "You have proven me that you are powerful enough to have the Inner Eye," Drew smiled.

Professor Trelawney continued placidly. "We will be covering the basic methods of Divination this year. The first term will be devoted to reading the tea leaves. Next term we shall progress to palmistry. By the way, my dear," she shot suddenly at Parvati Patil, "beware a red-haired man."

Parvati gave a startled look at Ron, who was right behind her and edged her chair away from him. "In the second term,"

Professor Trelawney went on, "we shall progress to the crystal ball—if we have finished with fire omens, that is. Unfortunately, classes will be disrupted in February by a nasty bout of flu. I myself will lose my voice. And around Easter, one of our number will leave us for ever."

A very tense silence followed this pronouncement, but Professor Trelawney seemed unaware of it. "I wonder, dear," she said to Lavender Brown, who was nearest and shrank back in her chair, "if you could pass me the largest silver teapot?"

Lavender, looking relieved, stood up, took an enormous teapot from the shelf, and put it down on the table in front of Professor Trelawney.

"Thank you, my dear. Incidentally, that thing you are dreading—it will happen on Friday the sixteenth of October." Lavender trembled. "Now, I want you all to divide into pairs. Collect a teacup from the shelf, come to me, and I will fill it. Then sit down and drink, drink until only the dregs remain. Swill these around the cup three times with the left hand, then turn the cup upside down on its saucer, wait for the last of the tea to drain away, then give your cup to your partner to read. You will interpret the patterns using pages five and six of _Unfogging the Future._ I shall move among you, helping and instructing. Oh, and dear—"

She caught Neville by the arm as he made to stand up, "after you've broken your first cup, would you be so kind as to select one of the blue patterned ones? I'm rather attached to the pink."

Sure enough, Neville had no sooner reached the shelf of teacups when there was a tinkle of breaking china.

Professor Trelawney swept over to him holding a dustpan and brush and said, "One of the blue ones, then, dear, if you wouldn't mind...thank you..."

When Harry and Drew had had their teacups filled, they went back to their table and tried to drink the scalding tea quickly.

They swilled the dregs around as Professor Trelawney had instructed, then drained the cups and swapped over.

"Right," said Ron as they both opened their books at pages five and six. "What can you see in mine?" "There is some sort of cross..."

Hermione consulted _Unfogging the Future_. "That means you're going to have _'trials and suffering'_ —I hope you will not do something foolish—and I see a...sun. That means _'great happiness'_...so you're going to suffer but be very happy..."

"You need your Inner Eye tested, if you ask me," said Ron, smirking. "What can you see in mine, Ron?" said Hermione, rolling her eyes.

"Er—there is an...apple, that means you will have a long life," Ron told Hermione as he turned the teacup counter clockwise.

"...I see an hourglass...that means danger are about to happen...and there's a dagger...it means your friends will help you with something...Oh...I see a fox...that means you will be betrayed by your closest friends,"

At those words, Hermione gulped. "Don't worry, Hermione." assured Drew. "We will never...ever turn our backs on you," Hermione smiled weakly.

"Now, Harry," said Drew as he turned to Harry. "What symbol can you see in my cup?" "A load of soggy brown stuff," said Harry.

The heavily perfumed smoke in the room was making him feel sleepy and stupid.

"Broaden your minds, my dears, and allow your eyes to see past the mundane!" Professor Trelawney cried through the gloom. Harry tried to pull himself together.

"Right, you've got an angel," He told Drew. "It is a good news, especially in love-related matters—" Harry saw Drew smirking at him.

"Don't look at me like that, Halliwell," said Harry, raising an eyebrow at Drew. "Anyways... there's a mountain. That means you have a powerful friend—er—I see a...saw. Hang on...that means _'trouble from strangers'_ "

At these words, Drew now remembered about the Angel of Death and his warning. "I wonder if someone has been bothering you," said Harry curiously.

"No one," said Drew quickly. "Continue, please," "Oh yeah...there's a shark...that means _'danger of death'_ "

" _'Danger of death'_? Why am I not surprised?" said Drew sarcastically, and they both had to stifle their laughs as Professor Trelawney gazed in their direction.

"Ok, my turn..." Drew peered into Harry's teacup, his forehead wrinkled with effort. "There's a shape looks like a bowler hat," he said.

"I think you're going to work for the Ministry of Magic one day..." He turned the teacup the other way up.

"But this way it looks more like an acorn...wait a second," He scanned his copy of _Unfogging the Future_. " _'A windfall, unexpected gold.'_ Excellent, and there's a thing here," he turned the cup again, "that looks like an animal...yeah, it is an animal...it looks like a rat... no, a dog?"

Professor Trelawney whirled around as Harry let out a snort of laughter. "Let me see that, my dear," she said reprovingly to Harry, sweeping over and snatching Harry's cup from him. Everyone went quiet to watch.

Professor Trelawney was staring into the teacup, rotating it counterclockwise. "The falcon...my dear, you have a deadly enemy."

"But everyone knows that," said Hermione in a loud whisper. Professor Trelawney stared at her. "Well, they do," said Hermione. "Everybody knows about Harry and You-Know-Who. "

Harry, Drew and Ron stared at her with a mixture of amazement and admiration. They had never heard Hermione speak to a teacher like that before.

Professor Trelawney chose not to reply. She lowered her huge eyes to Harry's cup again and continued to turn it.

"The club...an attack. Dear, dear, this is not a happy cup..." "I thought that was a bowler hat," said Drew curiously. "The skull...danger in your path, my dear..."

Everyone was staring, transfixed, at Professor Trelawney, who gave the cup a final turn, gasped, and then screamed.

There was another tinkle of breaking china; Neville had smashed his second cup. Professor Trelawney sank into a vacant armchair, her glittering hand at her heart and her eyes closed.

"My dear boy—my poor dear boy—no—it is kinder not to say—no—don't ask me..." "What is it, Professor?" said Dean Thomas at once.

Everyone had got to their feet, and slowly they crowded around Harry and Ron's table, pressing close to Professor Trelawney's chair to get a good look at Harry's cup.

"My dear," Professor Trelawney's huge eyes opened dramatically, "you have the Grim." "The what?" said Harry.

Drew tried to get a premonition of it, but it didn't work. Dean Thomas shrugged at Harry and Lavender Brown looked puzzled, but nearly everybody else clapped their hands to their mouths in horror.

"The Grim, my dear, the Grim!" cried Professor Trelawney, who looked shocked that Harry hadn't understood. "The giant, spectral dog that haunts churchyards! My dear boy, it is an omen—the worst omen—of death!"

Drew's face went pale. Is Harry really going to die? Is the Angel of Death will take Harry's life? Lavender Brown clapped her hands to her mouth too.

Everyone was looking at Harry, everyone except Hermione, who had gotten up and moved around to the back of Professor Trelawney's chair.

"I don't think it looks like a Grim," she said flatly. Professor Trelawney surveyed Hermione with mounting dislike.

"You'll forgive me for saying so, my dear, but I perceive very little aura around you. Very little receptivity to the resonances of the future."

Seamus Finnigan was tilting his head from side to side. "It looks like a Grim if you do this," he said, with his eyes almost shut, "but it looks more like a donkey from here," he said, leaning to the left.

"When you've all finished deciding whether I'm going to die or not!" said Harry, taking even himself by surprise. Now nobody seemed to want to look at him.

"I think we will leave the lesson here for today," said Professor Trelawney in her mistiest voice. "Yes...please pack away your things..."

Silently the class took their teacups back to Professor Trelawney, packed away their books, and closed their bags. Even Ron was avoiding Harry's eyes.

"Until we meet again," said Professor Trelawney faintly, "fair fortune be yours. Oh, and dear—" She pointed at Neville, "you'll be late next time, so mind you work extra-hard to catch up."

Harry, Drew, Ron, and Hermione descended Professor Trelawney's ladder and the winding stair in silence, then set off for Professor McGonagall's Transfiguration lesson.

It took them so long to find her classroom that, early as they had left Divination, they were only just in time.

Drew chose a seat next to Harry which was right at the back of the room, but still, the rest of the class kept shooting furtive glances at Harry, as though he were about to drop dead at any moment.

Drew hardly heard what Professor McGonagall was telling them about Animagi (wizards who could transform at will into animals), and wasn't even watching when she transformed herself in front of their eyes into a tabby cat with spectacle markings around her eyes.

"Really, what has got into you all today?" said Professor McGonagall, turning back into herself with a faint pop, and staring around at them all. "Not that it matters, but that's the first time my transformation's not got applause from a class."

Everybody's heads turned toward Harry again, but nobody spoke. Then Hermione raised her hand. "Please, Professor, we've just had our first Divination class, and we were reading the tea leaves, and—"

"Ah, of course," said Professor McGonagall, suddenly frowning. "There is no need to say any more, Miss Granger. Tell me, which of you will be dying this year?"

Everyone stared at her. "Me," said Harry, finally. "I see," said Professor McGonagall, fixing Harry with her beady eyes.

"Then you should know, Potter, that Sibyll Trelawney has predicted the death of one student a year since she arrived at this school. None of them has died yet. Seeing death omens is her favorite way of greeting a new class. If it were not for the fact that I never speak ill of my colleagues—"

Professor McGonagall broke off, and they saw that her nostrils had gone white. She went on, more calmly, "Divination is one of the most imprecise branches of magic. I shall not conceal from you that I have very little patience with it. True Seers are very rare, and Professor Trelawney..."

She stopped again, and then said, in a very matter-of-fact tone, "You look in excellent health to me, Potter, so you will excuse me if I don't let you off homework today. I assure you that if you die, you need not hand it in."

Hermione laughed and Drew chuckled. "Feel better?" Drew asked Harry. "Actually, yes," Not everyone was convinced, however.

Ron still looked worried, and Lavender whispered, "But what about Neville's cup?"

When the Transfiguration class had finished, they joined the crowd thundering toward the Great Hall for lunch.

Drew helped himself with a couple of French toasts. "Ron, cheer up," said Hermione, pushing a dish of stew toward him. "You heard what Professor McGonagall said."

Ron spooned stew onto his plate and picked up his fork but didn't start. "Harry," he said, in a low, serious voice, "You haven't seen a great black dog anywhere, have you?"

"Yeah, I have," said Harry. "I saw one the night I left the Dursleys'," Ron let his fork fall with a clatter and Drew almost choked up.

"Probably a stray," said Hermione calmly. Ron looked at Hermione as though she had gone mad.

"Hermione, if Harry's seen a Grim, that's—that's bad," he said. "My—my uncle Bilius saw one and—and he died twenty-four hours later!"

"Coincidence," said Hermione airily, pouring herself some pumpkin juice. "You don't know what you're talking about!" said Ron, starting to get angry. "Grims scare the living daylights out of most wizards!"

"There you are, then," said Hermione in a superior tone. "They see the Grim and die of fright. The Grim's not an omen, it's the cause of death! And Harry's still with us because he's not stupid enough to see one and think, right, well, I'd better kick the bucket then!"

Ron mouthed wordlessly at Hermione, who opened her bag, took out her new Arithmancy book, and propped it open against the juice jug.

"I think Divination seems very woolly," she said, searching for her page. "A lot of guesswork, if you ask me."

"There was nothing woolly about the Grim in that cup!" said Ron hotly. "You didn't seem quite so confident when you were telling Harry it was a sheep," said Hermione coolly.

"Professor Trelawney said you didn't have the right aura! You just don't like being bad at something for a change!" He had touched a nerve.

Hermione slammed her Arithmancy book down on the table so hard that bits of meat and carrot flew everywhere.

Harry and Drew were startled. "If being good at Divination means I have to pretend to see death omens in a lump of tea leaves, I'm not sure I'll be studying it much longer! That lesson was absolute rubbish compared with my Arithmancy class!"

She snatched up her bag and stalked away. Ron frowned after her. "What's she talking about?" he said to Harry. "She hasn't been to an Arithmancy class yet."

Drew was pleased to get out of the castle after lunch. Yesterday's rain had cleared; the sky was a clear, pale gray, and the grass was springy and damp underfoot as they set off for their first ever Care of Magical Creatures class.

Ron and Hermione weren't speaking to each other. Harry and Drew walked beside them in silence as they went down the sloping lawns to Hagrid's hut on the edge of the Forbidden Forest.

It was only when he spotted three only-too-familiar backs ahead of them that he realized they must be having these lessons with the Slytherins.

Malfoy was talking animatedly to Crabbe and Goyle, who were chortling. Drew was quite sure he knew what they were talking about.

Hagrid was waiting for his class at the door of his hut. He stood in his moleskin overcoat, with Fang the boarhound at his heels, looking impatient to start.

"C'mon, now, get a move on!" he called as the class approached. "Got a real treat for yeh today! Great lesson comin' up! Everyone here? Right, follow me!"

For one nasty moment, Harry and Drew thought that Hagrid was going to lead them into the forest; they had had enough unpleasant experiences in there to last him a lifetime.

However, Hagrid strolled off around the edge of the trees, and five minutes later, they found themselves outside a kind of paddock. There was nothing in there.

"Everyone gather 'round the fence here!" he called. "That's it—make sure yeh can see—now, firs' thing yeh'll want ter do is open yer books—"

"How?" said the cold, drawling voice of Draco Malfoy. "Eh?" said Hagrid. "How do we open our books?" Malfoy repeated.

He took out his copy of The Monster Book of Monsters, which he had bound shut with a length of rope.

Other people took theirs out too; some, like Drew, had belted their book shut; others had crammed them inside tight bags or clamped them together with binder clips.

"Hasn'—hasn' anyone bin able ter open their books?" said Hagrid, looking crestfallen. The class all except Drew shook their heads.

"Oh, so how did yeh do it, Drew?" asked Hagrid. "You have to stroke it," said Drew. "Excellent. Ten points ter Gryffindor," said Hagrid loudly. "Look—"

He took Hermione's copy and ripped off the Spellotape that bound it. The book tried to bite, but Hagrid ran a giant forefinger down its spine, and the book shivered, and then fell open and lay quiet in his hand.

"Oh, how silly we've all been!" Malfoy sneered. "We should have stroked them! Why didn't we guess!" "I—I thought they were funny," Hagrid said uncertainly to Hermione.

"Oh, tremendously funny!" said Malfoy. "Really witty, giving us books that try and rip our hands off!" "Shut up, Malfoy," said Harry quietly.

Hagrid was looking downcast and Drew wanted Hagrid's first lesson to be a success.

"Righ' then," said Hagrid, who seemed to have lost his thread, "so—so yeh've got yer books an'...an'...now yeh need the Magical Creatures. Yeah. So I'll go an' get 'em. Hang on..."

He strode away from them into the forest and out of sight. "God, this place is going to the dogs," said Malfoy loudly. "That oaf teaching classes, my father'll have a fit when I tell him—"

"Shut the fuck up, ferret," said Drew. "Or what? Huh? Do you need your boyfriend Potter to—" "Oooooooh!" squealed Lavender Brown, pointing toward the opposite side of the paddock.

Trotting toward them were a dozen of the most bizarre creatures Drew had ever seen. They had the bodies, hind legs, and tails of horses, but the front legs, wings, and heads of what seemed to be giant eagles, with cruel, steel-colored beaks and large, brilliantly, orange eyes.

The talons on their front legs were half a foot long and deadly looking. Each of the beasts had a thick leather collar around its neck, which was attached to a long chain, and the ends of all of these were held in the vast hands of Hagrid, who came jogging into the paddock behind the creatures.

"Gee up, there!" he roared, shaking the chains and urging the creatures toward the fence where the class stood. Everyone drew back slightly as Hagrid reached them and tethered the creatures to the fence.

"Hippogriffs!" Hagrid roared happily, waving a hand at them. "Beau'iful, aren' they?"

Drew could sort of see what Hagrid meant. Once you got over the first shock of seeing something that was half horse, half bird, you started to appreciate the Hippogriffs' gleaming coats, changing smoothly from feather to hair, each of them a different color: stormy gray, bronze, pinkish roan, gleaming chestnut, and inky black.

"So," said Hagrid, rubbing his hands together and beaming around, "if yeh wan' ter come a bit nearer..." No one seemed to want to. Harry, Drew, Ron, and Hermione, however, approached the fence cautiously.

"Now, firs' thing yeh gotta know abou' Hippogriffs is, they're proud," said Hagrid. "Easily offended, Hippogriffs are. Don't never insult one, 'cause it might be the last thing yeh do. "

Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle weren't listening; they were talking in an undertone and Drew had a nasty feeling they were plotting how best to disrupt the lesson.

"Yeh always wait fer the Hippogriff ter make the firs' move," Hagrid continued. "It's polite, see? Yeh walk toward him, and yeh bow, an' yeh wait. If he bows back, yeh're allowed ter touch him. If he doesn' bow, then get away from him sharpish, 'cause those talons hurt. "

"Right—who wants ter go first?" Most of the class backed farther away in answer. Even Harry, Drew, Ron, and Hermione had misgivings.

The Hippogriffs were tossing their fierce heads and flexing their powerful wings; they didn't seem to like being tethered like this.

"No one?" said Hagrid, with a pleading look. "I'll do it," said Harry and Drew in unison. Drew and Harry then looked at each other.

There was an intake of breath from behind them, and both Lavender and Parvati whispered, "Oooh, no, Harry, remember your tea leaves!" "Don't worry," said Drew. "He will be safe if he's with me,"

Harry smiled at Drew. He climbed over the paddock fence. "Good men, both of yeh!" roared Hagrid. "Right then—let's see how yeh get on with Buckbeak."

He untied one of the chains, pulled the gray Hippogriff away from its fellows, and slipped off its leather collar. The class on the other side of the paddock seemed to be holding its breath. Malfoy's eyes were narrowed maliciously.

"Easy now," said Hagrid quietly. "Yeh've got eye contact, now try not ter blink...Hippogriffs don' trust yeh if yeh blink too much..."

Luckily, Drew always won in a staring contest so it wasn't hard not to blink. However, Harry's eyes immediately began to water, but he didn't shut them.

Buckbeak had turned his great, sharp head and was staring at Harry with one fierce orange eye. "Tha's it," said Hagrid. "Tha's it, Harry, Drew...now, bow."

Harry and Drew didn't feel much like exposing the back of their neck to Buckbeak, but they did as they were told. Harry and Drew gave a short bow and then looked up.

The Hippogriff was still staring haughtily at them. It didn't move. "Ah," said Hagrid, sounding worried. "Right—back away, now, Harry, Drew, easy does it—"

But then, to Harry's and Drew's enormous surprise, the Hippogriff suddenly bent its scaly front knees and sank into what was an unmistakable bow.

"Well done, Drew, Harry!" said Hagrid, ecstatic. "Right—yeh can touch him! Pat his beak, go on!"

Feeling that a better reward would have been to back away, Harry and Drew moved slowly toward the Hippogriff and reached out toward it.

They patted the beak several times and the Hippogriff closed its eyes lazily, as though enjoying it. The class broke into applause, all except for Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle, who were looking deeply disappointed.

"Righ' then, both of yeh," said Hagrid. "I reckon he migh' let yeh ride him!" "Woah, Woah, Woah. Ride him?" This was more than Drew had bargained for.

He was used to a broomstick; but he wasn't sure a Hippogriff would be quite the same.

"Yeh climb up there, jus' behind the wing joint," said Hagrid, "an' mind yeh don' pull any of his feathers out, he won' like that..."

Harry put his foot on the top of Buckbeak's wing and hoisted himself onto its back. Then, Harry held out his hand to Drew and he grabbed it. He sat behind a nervous Harry.

Buckbeak stood up. Drew put his arms around Harry's waist and Harry wasn't sure where to hold on; everything in front of him was covered with feathers.

"Go on, then!" roared Hagrid, slapping the Hippogriffs hindquarters.

Without warning, twelve-foot wings flapped open on either side of Harry and Drew, Harry just had time to seize the Hippogriff around the neck before he was soaring upward.

It was nothing like a broomstick, and Drew knew which one he preferred; the Hippogriff's wings beat uncomfortably on either side of him, catching him under his legs and making him feel he was about to be thrown off; instead of the smooth action of his Comet Three Sixty, he now felt himself rocking backward and forward as the hindquarters of the Hippogriff rose and fell with its wings.

Buckbeak flew them once around the paddock and then headed back to the ground; this was the bit Harry and Drew had been dreading; they leaned back as the smooth neck lowered, feeling they were going to slip off over the beak, then felt a heavy thud as the four ill-assorted feet hit the ground. Drew almost fell to the ground when Harry caught him in time.

"Good work to the two of yeh!" roared Hagrid as everyone except Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle cheered. "Okay, who else wants a go?"

Emboldened by Harry's and Drew's success, the rest of the class climbed cautiously into the paddock.

Hagrid untied the Hippogriffs one by one, and soon people were bowing nervously, all over the paddock.

Neville ran repeatedly backward from his, which didn't seem to want to bend its knees. Ron and Hermione practiced on the chestnut, while Harry and Drew watched.

Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle had taken over Buckbeak. He had bowed to Malfoy, who was now patting his beak, looking disdainful.

"This is very easy," Malfoy drawled, loud enough for Drew to hear him. "I knew it must have been, if Potter and Halliwell could do it...I bet you're not dangerous at all, are you?" he said to the Hippogriff. "Are you, you great ugly brute?"

Suddenly, the Hippogriff almost attacked Malfoy when Drew raised his hand and freeze both Malfoy and Buckbeak. Hagrid pushed Malfoy out of the way and they were unfrozen.

"It almost killed me!" Malfoy yelled as the class panicked. "It almost killed me! Wait till my father hears about this!"

"Oh Merlin," said Hagrid, who had gone very white. "Someone help me—gotta get him outta here—"

Hermione ran to hold open the gate as Hagrid lifted Malfoy easily. Hagrid ran with him, up the slope toward the castle.

Very shaken, the Care of Magical Creatures class followed at a walk. The Slytherins were all shouting about Hagrid.

"They should sack him straight away!" said Pansy Parkinson, who was in tears. "It was Malfoy's fault!" snapped Dean Thomas. Crabbe and Goyle flexed their muscles threateningly.

They all climbed the stone steps into the deserted entrance hall. "I'm going to see if he's okay!" said Pansy, and they all watched her run up the marble staircase.

The Slytherins, still muttering about Hagrid, headed away in the direction of their dungeon common room; Harry, Drew, Ron, and Hermione proceeded upstairs to Gryffindor Tower.

"You think he'll be all right?" said Hermione nervously. "I guess not mentally," said Drew. "That was a really bad thing to happen in Hagrid's first class, though, wasn't it?" said Ron, looking worried. "Trust Malfoy to mess things up for him..."

They were among the first to reach the Great Hall at dinnertime, hoping to see Hagrid, but he wasn't there. "They wouldn't fire him, would they?" said Hermione anxiously, not touching her steak-and-kidney pudding.

"They'd better not," said Ron, who wasn't eating either. Drew was watching the Slytherin table. A large group including Crabbe and Goyle was huddled together, deep in conversation.

Drew was sure they were cooking up their own version of how Malfoy had been injured. "Well, you can't say it wasn't an interesting first day back," said Ron gloomily.

At the end of the table, Drew saw Damien, chatting with a first-year Slytherin.

"I can't believe him," said Drew. "Look at him. He didn't even want to look at me, his brother," "Drew, just let him be, you can't force him to be in Gryffindor," said Hermione. "And he's our brother too, Drew," said Dylan, who was sitting next to his older brother.

They went up to the crowded Gryffindor common room after dinner and tried to do the homework Professor McGonagall had given them, but all three of them kept breaking off and glancing out of the tower window.

"There's a light on in Hagrid's window," Harry said suddenly. Ron looked at his watch. "If we hurried, we could go down and see him. It's still quite early..."

"I don't know," Hermione said slowly, and Drew saw her glance at Harry. "I'm allowed to walk across the grounds," he said pointedly. "Sirius Black hasn't got past the Dementors yet, has he?"

So they put their things away and headed out of the portrait hole, glad to meet nobody on their way to the front doors, as they weren't entirely sure they were supposed to be out.

The grass was still wet and looked almost black in the twilight. When they reached Hagrid's hut, they knocked, and a voice growled, "C'min."

Hagrid was sitting in his shirtsleeves at his scrubbed wooden table; his boarhound, Fang, had his head in Hagrid's lap.

One look told them that Hagrid had been drinking a lot; there was a pewter tankard almost as big as a bucket in front of him, and he seemed to be having difficulty getting them into focus.

"'Spect it's a record," he said thickly, when he recognized them. "Don' reckon they've ever had a teacher who lasted on'y a day before. "

"You haven't been fired, Hagrid!" gasped Hermione. "Not yet," said Hagrid miserably, taking a huge gulp of whatever was in the tankard. "But's only a matter o' time, I'n't, after Malfoy..."

"How is he?" said Ron as they all sat down. "He is ok, isn't he?" "Yes, he's fine but after what happened..." said Hagrid dully, "but he's sayin' it's agony...moanin'..."

"He's obviously faking it," said Harry at once. "You and Drew saved him," "School gov'nors have bin told, o' course," said Hagrid miserably.

"They reckon I started too big. Shoulda left Hippogriffs fer later...one flobberworms or summat...Jus' thought it'd make a good firs' lesson's all my fault..." "It's not your fault, Hagrid, it's Malfoy's," said Drew sincerely.

"We're witnesses," said Harry. "You said Hippogriffs attack if you insult them. It's Malfoy's problem that he wasn't listening. We'll tell Dumbledore what really happened."

"Yeah, don't worry, Hagrid, we'll back you up," said Ron. "I can become Buckbeak's lawyer," said Drew. "It's on the house, of course,"

Tears leaked out of the crinkled corners of Hagrid's beetle-black eyes. He grabbed Harry, Drew and Ron and pulled them into a bone-breaking hug.

"I think you've had enough to drink, Hagrid," said Hermione firmly. She took the tankard from the table and went outside to empty it.

"Ah, maybe she's right," said Hagrid, letting go of Harry, Drew and Ron, who both staggered away, rubbing their ribs.

Hagrid heaved himself out of his chair and followed Hermione unsteadily outside. They heard a loud splash. "What's he done?" said Harry nervously as Hermione came back in with the empty tankard.

"Stuck his head in the water barrel," said Hermione, putting the tankard away. Hagrid came back, his long hair and beard sopping wet, wiping the water out of his eyes.

"That's better," he said, shaking his head like a dog and drenching them all. "Listen, it was good of yeh ter come an' see me, I really—"

Hagrid stopped dead, staring at Harry as though he'd only just realized he was there.

"WHAT D'YEH THINK YOU'RE DOIN', EH?" he roared, so suddenly that they jumped a foot in the air. "YEH'RE NOT TO GO WANDERIN' AROUND AFTER DARK, HARRY! AN, YOU THREE! LETTIN' HIM!"

Hagrid strode over to Harry, grabbed his arm, and pulled him to the door. "C'mon!" Hagrid said angrily. "I'm takin' yer all back up ter school an' don' let me catch yeh walkin' down ter see me after dark again. I'm not worth that!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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	5. Teen's Play Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drew had his first Defense Against the Dark Arts and History of Magic lessons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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Malfoy didn't reappear in classes until late on Thursday morning, when the Slytherins and Gryffindors were halfway through double Potions.

He swaggered into the dungeon, his right arm covered in bandages and bound up in a sling, acting, in Drew's opinion, as though he were the heroic wiccan witch who once vanquished a high-level demon.

"How is it, Draco?" simpered Pansy Parkinson. "Does it hurt much?" "Yeah," said Malfoy, putting on a brave sort of grimace. But Drew saw him wink at Crabbe and Goyle when Pansy had looked away.

"Settle down, settle down," said Professor Snape idly. Harry, Drew and Ron scowled at each other; Snape wouldn't have said 'settle down' if they'd walked in late, he'd have given them detention.

But Malfoy had always been able to get away with anything in Snape's classes; Snape was head of Slytherin House, and generally favored his own students above all others.

They were making a new potion today, a Shrinking Solution. Malfoy set up his cauldron right next to Harry, Drew and Ron, so that they were preparing their ingredients on the same table.

"Sir," Malfoy called, "sir, I'll need help cutting up these daisy roots, because of my arm—" "Weasley, cut up Malfoy's roots for him," said Snape without looking up.

Ron went brick red. "There's nothing wrong with your arm," he hissed at Malfoy. "Drew saved you," Malfoy smirked across the table.

"Weasley, you heard Professor Snape; cut up these roots." Ron seized his knife, pulled Malfoy's roots toward him, and began to chop them roughly, so that they were all different sizes.

"Professor," drawled Malfoy, "Weasley's mutilating my roots, sir." As Snape got up from his seat, Drew quickly froze the whole classroom. "Dylan!“ called Drew loudly.

The next moment, Dylan orbed inside the dungeon. "Drew," Dylan called as he looked around. "Why did you freeze everyone in the classroom?"

"No time to explain," said Drew quickly. "Can you project some same-sized daisy roots?" "Is that all?" said Dylan, looking irritated. "You could've casted a spell or something," "You know that I'm not good at making spells,"

Dylan sighed and closed his eyes. The roots which were cut by Ron was now vanished and some new daisy roots which already had been evened out appeared on Malfoy's cutting board.

"Thanks, Dylan," said Drew. "I owe you," "Ok, but next time don't call me when I have a free period which will ended in—" Dylan checked his watch. "about fifteen minutes....Ok, I gotta go," Dylan orbed out from the dungeon.

Drew unfroze the room. Snape approached their table, stared down his hooked nose at the roots, then frowned. He turned around and walked off.

Malfoy was taken aback by that and when he looked down, he saw the roots were now even with one another. He then looked up at Drew who was busy working on his potion, but he wasn’t fooled. He thought somehow Drew had intervened with the roots.

"And, sir, I'll need this shrivelfig skinned," said Malfoy, his voice full of malicious laughter. "Halliwell, you can skin Malfoy's shrivelfig," said Snape.

Drew frowned. He took Malfoy's shrivelfig, skinned the shrivelfig as fast as he could and flung it back across the table at Malfoy without speaking. Malfoy was smirking more broadly than ever.

"Seen your pal Hagrid lately?" he asked them quietly. "None of your business," said Ron jerkily, without looking up. "I'm afraid he won't be a teacher much longer," said Malfoy in a tone of mock sorrow. "Father's not very happy about my injury—"

"You don't have an injury at all," hissed Drew. "If he keeps quiet," added Ron. "He's complained to the school governors. And to the Ministry of Magic. Father's got a lot of influence, you know. And a lasting injury like this"—he gave a huge, fake sigh—"who knows if my arm'll ever be the same again?"

"So that's why you're putting it on," said Harry, accidentally beheading a dead caterpillar because his hand was shaking in anger, "To try to get Hagrid fired."

"Well," said Malfoy, lowering his voice to a whisper, "partly, Potter. But there are other benefits too. Weasley, slice my caterpillars for me."

A few cauldrons away, Neville was in trouble. Neville regularly went to pieces in Potions lessons; it was his worst subject, and his great fear of Professor Snape made things ten times worse. His potion, which was supposed to be a bright, acid green, had turned—

"Orange, Longbottom," said Snape, ladling some up and allowing to splash back into the cauldron, so that everyone could see. "Orange. Tell me, boy, does anything penetrate that thick skull of yours? Didn't you hear me say, quite clearly, that only one cat spleen was needed? Didn't I state plainly that a dash of leech juice would suffice? What do I have to do to make you understand, Longbottom?"

Neville was pink and trembling. He looked as though he was on the verge of tears. "Please, sir," said Hermione, "please, I could help Neville put it right—" "I don't remember asking you to show off, Miss Granger," said Snape coldly, and Hermione went as pink as Neville. "Longbottom, at the end of this lesson we will feed a few drops of this potion to your toad and see what happens. Perhaps that will encourage you to do it properly."

Snape moved away, leaving Neville breathless with fear. "Help me!" he moaned to Hermione. "Hey, Harry," said Seamus Finnigan, leaning over to borrow Harry's brass scales, "have you heard? Daily Prophet this morning—they reckon Sirius Black's been sighted."

"Where?" said Harry, Drew and Ron quickly. On the other side of the table, Malfoy looked up, listening closely. "Not too far from here," said Seamus, who looked excited. "It was a Muggle who saw him. 'Course, she didn't really understand. The Muggles think he's just an ordinary criminal, don't they? So she phoned the telephone hot line. By the time the Ministry of Magic got there, he was gone."

"Not too far from here... " Ron repeated, looking significantly at Harry and Drew. He turned around and saw Malfoy watching closely. "What, Malfoy? Need something else skinned?"

But Malfoy's eyes were shining malevolently, and they were fixed Harry. He leaned across the table. "Thinking of trying to catch Black single-handed, Potter?" "Yeah, that's right," said Harry offhandedly.

Malfoy's thin mouth was curving in a mean smile. "Of course, if it was me," he said quietly, "I'd have done something before now. I wouldn't be staying in school like a good boy, I'd be out there looking for him."

"What are you talking about, Malfoy?" said Ron roughly. "Don't you know, Potter?" breathed Malfoy, his pale eyes narrowed. "Know what?"

Malfoy let out a low, sneering laugh. "Maybe you'd rather not risk your neck," he said. "Want to leave it to the Dementors, do you? But if it was me, I'd want revenge. I'd hunt him down myself."

"What are you talking about?" said Harry angrily, but at that moment Snape called, "You should have finished adding your ingredients by now; this potion needs to stew before it can be drunk, so clear away while it simmers and then we'll test Longbottom's..."

Crabbe and Goyle laughed openly, watching Neville sweat as he stirred his potion feverishly. Hermione was muttering instructions to him out of the corner of her mouth, so that Snape wouldn't see.

Harry, Drew and Ron packed away their unused ingredients and went to wash their hands and ladles in the stone basin in the corner.

"What did Malfoy mean?" Harry muttered to Ron as he stuck his hands under the icy jet that poured from the gargoyle's mouth "Why would I want revenge on Black? He hasn't done anything to me—yet."

"He's making it up," said Ron savagely. "He's trying to make you do something stupid..." The end of the lesson in sight, Snape strode over to Neville, who was cowering by his cauldron.

"Everyone gather 'round," said Snape, his black eyes glittering, "and watch what happens to Longbottom's toad. If he has managed to produce a Shrinking Solution, it will shrink to a tadpole. If, as I don't doubt, he has done it wrong, his toad is likely to be poisoned."

The Gryffindors watched fearfully. The Slytherins looked excited. Snape picked up Trevor the toad in his left hand and dipped a small spoon into Neville's potion, which was now green. He trickled a few drops down Trevor's throat.

There was a moment of hushed silence, in which Trevor gulped; then there was a small pop, and Trevor the tadpole was wriggling in Snape's palm.

The Gryffindors burst into applause. Snape, looking sour, pulled a small bottle from the pocket of his robe, poured a few drops on top of Trevor, and he reappeared suddenly, fully grown.

"Five points from Gryffindor," said Snape, which wiped the smiles from every face. "I told you not to help him, Miss Granger. Class dismissed."

At these words, Drew accidentally blew up everyone's Shrinking Potions. "Halliwell!" shouted Snape. "Fifty points from Gryffindor for causing a mayhem!"

Harry, Drew, Ron, and Hermione climbed the steps to the entrance hall. Harry was still thinking about what Malfoy had said, while Ron was seething about Snape.

"Five points from Gryffindor because the potion was all right!" "And fifty points from Gryffindor because I can't control feelings," added Drew lazily. "Drew, it's not your fault that you became angry at Snape," said Harry. "He is impossible for everyone to get along with,"

But Ron was still talking about Snape. "Why didn't you lie, Hermione? You should've said Neville did it all by himself!" Hermione didn't answer. Ron looked around. "Where is she?"

Harry and Drew turned too. They were at the top of the steps now, watching the rest of the class pass them, heading for the Great Hall and lunch.

"She was right behind us," said Ron, frowning. Malfoy passed them, walking between Crabbe and Goyle. He smirked at Harry and disappeared. "There she is," said Harry.

Hermione was panting slightly, hurrying up the stairs; one hand clutched her bag, the other seemed to be tucking something down the front of her robes.

"How did you do that?" said Ron. "What?" said Hermione, joining them. "One minute you were right behind us, the next moment, you were back at the bottom of the stairs again."

"What?" Hermione looked slightly confused. "Oh—I had to go back for something. Oh no—"

A seam had split on Hermione's bag. Harry and Drew wasn't surprised; he could see that it was crammed with at least a dozen large and heavy books.

"Why are you carrying all these around with you?" Ron asked her. "You know how many subjects I'm taking," said Hermione breathlessly. "Couldn't hold these for me, could you?"

"But—" Ron was turning over the books she had handed him, looking at the covers. "You haven't got any of these subjects today. It's only Defense Against the Dark Arts this afternoon."

"Oh yes," said Hermione vaguely, but she packed all the books back into her bag just the same. "I hope there's something good for lunch, I'm starving," she added, and she marched off toward the Great Hall. "D'you get the feeling Hermione's not telling us something?" Ron asked Harry and Drew.

Professor Lupin wasn't there when they arrived at his first Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson. They all sat down, took out their books, quills, and parchment, and were talking when he finally entered the room.

Lupin smiled vaguely and placed his tatty old briefcase on the teacher's desk. He was as shabby as ever but looked healthier than he had on the train, as though he had had a few square meals.

"Good afternoon," he said. "Would you please put all your books back in your bags. Today's will be a practical lesson. You will need only your wands."

A few curious looks were exchanged as the class put away their books. They had never had a practical Defense Against the Dark Arts class before, unless you counted the memorable class last year when their old teacher had brought a cageful of pixies to class and set them loose.

"Right then," said Professor Lupin, when everyone was ready. "If you'd follow me." Puzzled but interested, the class got to its feet and followed Professor Lupin out of the classroom.

He led them along the deserted corridor and around a corner, where the first thing they saw was Peeves the Poltergeist, who was floating upside down in midair and stuffing the nearest keyhole with chewing gum.

Peeves didn't look up until Professor Lupin was two feet away; then he wiggled his curly-toed feet and broke into song. "Loony, loopy Lupin," Peeves sang. "Loony, loopy Lupin, loony, loopy Lupin—"

Rude and unmanageable as he almost always was, Peeves usually showed some respect toward the teachers. Everyone looked quickly at Professor Lupin to see how he would take this; to their surprise, he was still smiling. "I'd take that gum out of the keyhole if I were you, Peeves," he said pleasantly. "Mr. Filch won't be able to get in to his brooms."

Filch was the Hogwarts caretaker, a bad-tempered, failed wizard who waged a constant war against the students and, indeed, Peeves.

Then, Peeves saw Drew was glaring at him. Peeves went pale as a ghost. He couldn't forget his tormentary experience with Drew last year. Oh—er—hi, Mr. Halliwell," "Hello Peeves, hope you are well," said Drew calmly. "Yes, sir. Very well,"

All eyes were on the both; they had never seen Peeves so disciplined before. His eyes fell back on Professor Lupin.  
Peeves blew a loud wet raspberry at him. Professor Lupin gave a small sigh and took out his wand. "This is a useful little spell," he told the class over his shoulder. "Please watch closely."

He raised the wand to shoulder height, said, "Waddiwasi!" and pointed it at Peeves. With the force of a bullet, the wad of chewing gum shot out of the keyhole and straight down Peeves's left nostril; he whirled upright and zoomed away, cursing.

"Cool, sir!" said Dean Thomas in amazement. "Thank you, Dean," said Professor Lupin, putting his wand away again. "Shall we proceed?"

They set off again, the class looking at shabby Professor Lupin with increased respect. He led them down a second corridor and stopped, right outside the staffroom door.

"Inside, please," said Professor Lupin, opening it and standing back. The staffroom, a long, paneled room full of old, mismatched chairs, was empty except for one teacher.

Professor Snape was sitting in a low armchair, and he looked around as the class filed in. His eyes were glittering and there was a nasty sneer playing around his mouth.

As Professor Lupin came in and made to close the door behind him, Snape said, "Leave it open, Lupin. I'd rather not witness this." He got to his feet and strode past the class, his black robes billowing behind him.

At the doorway he turned on his heel and said, "Possibly no one's warned you, Lupin, but this class contains Neville Longbottom. I would advise you not to entrust him with anything difficult. Not unless Miss Granger is hissing instructions in his ear."

Neville went scarlet. Drew glared at Snape; it was bad enough that he bullied Neville in his own classes, let alone doing it in front of other teachers.

Professor Lupin had raised his eyebrows. "I was hoping that Neville would assist me with the first stage of the operation," he said, "and I am sure he will perform it admirably."

Neville's face went, if possible, even redder. Snape's lip curled, but he left, shutting the door with a snap. "Now, then," said Professor Lupin, beckoning the class toward the end of the room, where there was nothing but an old wardrobe where the teachers kept their spare robes.

As Professor Lupin went to stand next to it, the wardrobe gave a sudden wobble, banging off the wall. "Nothing to worry about," said Professor Lupin calmly because a few people had jumped backward in alarm. "There's a Boggart in there."

Most people seemed to feel that this was something to worry about. Neville gave Professor Lupin a look of pure terror, and Seamus Finnigan eyed the now rattling doorknob apprehensively.

"Boggarts like dark, enclosed spaces," said Professor Lupin. "Wardrobes, the gap beneath beds, the cupboards under sinks—I've even met one that had lodged itself in a grandfather clock. This one moved in yesterday afternoon, and I asked the headmaster if the staff would leave it to give my third years some practice."

"So, the first question we must ask ourselves is, what is a Boggart?" Hermione put up her hand. "It's a shape-shifter," she said. "It can take the shape of whatever it thinks will frighten us most." 'It sounds like Barbas,' thought Drew.

"Couldn't have put it better myself," said Professor Lupin, and Hermione glowed. "So the Boggart sitting in the darkness within has not yet assumed a form. He does not yet know what will frighten the person on the other side of the door. Nobody knows what a Boggart looks like when he is alone, but when I let him out, he will immediately become whatever each of us most fears.

"This means," said Professor Lupin, choosing to ignore Neville's small sputter of terror, "that we have a huge advantage over the Boggart before we begin. Have you spotted it, Harry?"

Trying to answer a question with Hermione next to him, bobbing up and down on the balls of her feet with her hand in the air, was very off-putting, but Harry had a go.

"Er—because there are so many of us, it won't know what shape it should be?" "Precisely," said Professor Lupin, and Hermione put her hand down, looking a little disappointed.

"It's always best to have company when you're dealing with a Boggart. He becomes confused. Which should he become, a headless corpse or a flesh-eating slug? I once saw a Boggart make that very mistake—tried to frighten two people at once and turned himself into half a slug. Not remotely frightening."

"The charm that repels a Boggart is simple, yet it requires force of mind. You see, the thing that really finishes a Boggart is laughter. What you need to do is force it to assume a shape that you find amusing."

"We will practice the charm without wands first. After me, please... riddikulus!" "Riddikulus!" said the class together. "Good," said Professor Lupin. "Very good. But that was the easy part, I'm afraid. You see, the word alone is not enough. And this is where you come in, Neville."

The wardrobe shook again, though not as much as Neville, who walked forward as though he were heading for the gallows. "Right, Neville," said Professor Lupin. "First things first: what would you say is the thing that frightens you most in the world?"

Neville's lips moved, but no noise came out. "I didn't catch that, Neville, sorry," said Professor Lupin cheerfully. Neville looked around rather wildly, as though begging someone to help him, then said, in barely more than a whisper, "Professor Snape. "

Nearly everyone laughed. Even Neville grinned apologetically. Professor Lupin, however, looked thoughtful. "Professor Snape... hmmm...Neville, I believe you live with your grandmother?"

"Er—yes," said Neville nervously. "But—I don't want the Boggart to turn into her either." "No, no, you misunderstand me," said Professor Lupin, now smiling. "I wonder, could you tell us what sort of clothes your grandmother usually wears?"

Neville looked startled, but said, "Well...always the same hat. A tall one with a stuffed vulture on top. And a long dress...green, normally...and sometimes a fox-fur scarf." "And a handbag?" prompted Professor Lupin. "A big red one," said Neville.

"Right then," said Professor Lupin. "Can you picture those clothes very clearly, Neville? Can you see them in your mind's eye?" "Yes," said Neville uncertainty, plainly wondering what was coming next. "When the Boggart bursts out of this wardrobe, Neville, and sees you, it will assume the form of Professor Snape," said Lupin. "And you will raise your wand—thus—and cry "Riddikulus"—and concentrate hard on your grandmother's clothes. If all goes well, Professor Boggart Snape will be forced into that vulture-topped hat, and that green dress, with that big red handbag."

There was a great shout of laughter. The wardrobe wobbled more violently. "If Neville is successful, the Boggart is likely to shift his attention to each of us in turn," said Professor Lupin. "I would like all of you to take a moment now to think of the thing that scares you most, and imagine how you might force it to look comical..."

The room went quiet. Drew thought...What scared him most in the world? His first thought was Harry—a dead Harry. But before he had even started to plan a possible counterattack on a Boggart-Dead Harry, he suddenly thought of something...his mom.

Drew was barely breathing. Many people had their eyes shut tight. Ron was muttering to himself, "Take its legs off. " Drew was sure he knew what that was about. Ron's greatest fear was spiders.

"Everyone ready?" said Professor Lupin. Almost everyone was nodding and rolling up their sleeves. "Neville, we're going to back away," said Professor Lupin. "Let you have a clear field, all right? I'll call the next person forward...Everyone back, now, so Neville can get a clear shot—"

They all retreated, backed against the walls, leaving Neville alone beside the wardrobe. He looked pale and frightened, but he had pushed up the sleeves of his robes and was holding his wand ready.

"On the count of three, Neville," said Professor Lupin, who was pointing his own wand at the handle of the wardrobe. "One—two—three—now!"

A jet of sparks shot from the end of Professor Lupin's wand and hit the doorknob. The wardrobe burst open. Hook-nosed and menacing, Professor Snape stepped out, his eyes flashing at Neville.

Neville backed away, his wand up, mouthing wordlessly. Snape was bearing down upon him, reaching inside his robes. "R—r—riddikulus!" squeaked Neville.

There was a noise like a whip crack. Snape stumbled; he was wearing a long, lace-trimmed dress and a towering hat topped with a moth-eaten vulture, and he was swinging a huge crimson handbag.

There was a roar of laughter; the Boggart paused, confused, and Professor Lupin shouted, "Parvati! Forward!" Parvati walked forward, her face set.

Snape rounded on her. There was another crack, and where he had stood was a bloodstained, bandaged mummy; its sightless face was turned to Parvati and it began to walk toward her very slowly, dragging its feet, its stiff arms rising—"

"Riddikulus!" cried Parvati. A bandage unraveled at the mummy's feet; it became entangled, fell face forward, and its head rolled off. "Seamus!" roared Professor Lupin.

Seamus darted past Parvati. Crack! Where the mummy had been was a woman with floorlength black hair and a skeletal, green-tinged face—a banshee.

She opened her mouth wide and an unearthly sound filled the room, a long, wailing shriek that made Drew almost shot a lightning strike at her—"Riddikulus!" shouted Seamus.

The banshee made a rasping noise and clutched her throat; her voice was gone. Crack! The banshee turned into a rat, which chased its tail in a circle, then—crack!- became a rattlesnake, which slithered and writhed before—crack!—becoming a single, bloody eyeball.

"It's confused!" shouted Lupin. "We're getting there! Dean!" Dean hurried forward. Crack! The eyeball became a severed hand, which flipped over and began to creep along the floor like a crab.

"Riddikulus!" yelled Dean. There was a snap, and the hand was trapped in a mousetrap. "Excellent! Ron, you next!" Ron leapt forward.

Crack! Quite a few people screamed. A giant spider, six feet tall and covered in hair, was advancing on Ron, clicking its pincers menacingly. For a moment, Harry thought Ron had frozen. Then—

"Riddikulus!" bellowed Ron, and the spider's legs vanished; it rolled over and over; Lavender Brown squealed and ran out of its way. "Perfect! Drew, forward!" Drew advanced.

Crack! The spider do not turned into Harry's corpse but instead it turned into an unknown hooded figure. Drew and everyone else had no clue who he is but they heard a voice.

"Hello, Drew Halliwell," said the voice calmly. Drew recognized that voice at once; it was the Source of All Evil's. "You know who I am, I'm back, I am stronger, I will kill all your friends and family,"

Drew was now shivered in fear. "Just like when I killed your weak, selfless mother," said The Source and suddenly Drew gasped; he has been pulled into a premonition.

"Mom, I'm home," said Drew as he closed the front door of the Halliwell Manor. Then, a crash can be heard from the kitchen. "Mom!" Drew ran towards the kitchen as quick as he can.

When he finally was there, he saw two people. His mom, Catherine, and The Source. "Drew, what are you doing here!" shrieked Catherine as she tried to stun The Source with her wand. "Mom!"

"Get out!" shouted Catherine but The Source threw a fireball at Drew. She jumped in front of his son and she caught in fire. Seconds later, she exploded into pieces.

"Mom!" cried Drew, starting to cry. The Source conjured another fireball. "I guess this is the end of the two Halliwells," "Over my dead body!" It was Chris, Drew's dad.

He threw The Source against the wall as the Charmed Ones appeared.

"Prudence, Penelope, Patricia, Melinda,

Astrid, Helena, Laura and Grace,

Halliwell Witches, stand strong beside us

Vanquish this evil from time and space!"

With the spell, The Source screamed in pain and he exploded into ashes. The premonition ended and Drew opened his eyes. "It was you!" said Drew angrily. "It was you who murdered my Mom!"

Several people looked at them in shocked. "Riddikulus!" cried Drew, and The Source exploded into colorful confetties. Drew turned around to see all eyes were on him. One of the confetti came to a halt at Harry's feet. He raised his wand, ready, but—

"Here!" shouted Professor Lupin suddenly, hurrying forward. Crack! The confetties had vanished. For a second, everyone looked wildly around to see where it was. Then they saw a silvery-white orb hanging in the air in front of Lupin, who said, "Riddikulus!" almost lazily.

Crack! "Forward, Neville, and finish him off!" said Lupin as the Boggart landed on the floor as a cockroach. Crack! Snape was back. This time Neville charged forward looking determined.

"Riddikulus!" he shouted, and they had a split second's view of Snape in his lacy dress before Neville let out a great "Ha!" of laughter, and the Boggart exploded, burst into a thousand tiny wisps of smoke, and was gone.

"Excellent!" cried Professor Lupin as the class broke into applause. "Excellent, Neville. Well done, everyone...Let me see...five points to Gryffindor for every person to tackle the Boggart—ten for Neville because he did it twice...and five each to Hermione and Harry."

"But I didn't do anything," said Harry. "You and Hermione answered my questions correctly at the start of the class, Harry," Lupin said lightly. "Very well, everyone, an excellent lesson. Homework, kindly read the chapter on Boggarts and summarize it for me...to be handed in on Monday. That will be all."

Talking excitedly, the class left the staffroom. Drew, however, wasn't feeling cheerful. His boggart was The Source, one of the most powerful evil being in the world and it really bothered him.

Everyone was talking about their boggarts. "Did you see me take that banshee?" shouted Seamus. "And the hand!" said Dean, waving his own around. "And Snape in that hat!" "And my mummy!" "I wonder why Professor Lupin's frightened of crystal balls?" said Lavender thoughtfully.

"That was the best Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson we've ever had, wasn't it?" said Ron excitedly as they made their way back to the classroom to get their bags. "He seems like a very good teacher," said Hermione approvingly. "But I wish I could have had a turn with the Boggart—"

"What would it have been for you?" said Ron, sniggering. "A piece of homework that only got nine out of ten?"

"Drew," called Harry, looking at his boyfriend. "Are you ok?" Drew ignored him. "Drew, Harry's asking you a question," said Ron. He ignored him as well. Hermione asked, "Drew, who was that—"

"Can you guys please stop asking me questions!" shouted Drew, making his friends startled. Drew sighed and said, "I'm sorry that I shouted at you guys," "We're sorry too, we shouldn't have asked you some such personal questions about you," said Hermione apologetically. "It's ok,"

"But really, who is that?" asked Ron. "The Source," said Drew. "He was once a demon who had been vanquished by my grandmother and great-aunts before,"

"So he is like Voldermort but in a Wiccan version? Is he ugly?" said Harry curiously. Ron flinched when he heard the name. "Yes, believe it or not, he's much uglier than Voldermort," chuckled Drew.

"We better go, we have the History of Magic next," said Hermione. When they arrived at the classroom, they sat down on their seats, and Grams, or rather, Professor Halliwell, came down from the sky with swirls of orbs surrounding her which made everyone broke into applause.

"Greetings, everyone," said Grams proudly. "Before we started, may I introduce myself. My name is Penny Halliwell, but you can call me Professor Halliwell,"

"In today's lesson, we will learn about—" Hermione raised her hand. "Professor, can you tell us about your family's history?" "But I don't see how it could help you in the exam," "Please, professor," begged Dean Thomas. "We really wanna know,"

"Ok, fine," said Grams, rolling her eyes. "The Halliwell Family is a descendant of the Warren line of witches that started with Melinda Warren, daughter of Charlotte Warren in the 17th century. They are the most powerful line of witches in history. One of the things that have made the Charmed Ones and all witches in the line so strong is their bond as a family. Each Warren witch would possess at least one of the three original powers: telekinesis, molecular immobilization, and premonition.

Some of the (full) named ancestors of the Charmed Ones include Beatrice Warren, Prudence Warren and Brianna Warren Wentworth. Some other family members include: "Astrid", "Helena", "Laura", "Grace", "P. Bowen", "P. Baxter", "P. Russell".

As stated above, the witches in the Warren line are especially powerful because of their bond as family. This is particularly noteworthy in the Charmed Ones-three sister witches, whose powers are directly linked to their bond as sisters. Many demons have discovered that the key to defeating them isn't by breaking their bonds as witches, but as sisters.

The bond of family is important to all Halliwells, such as me, the Charmed Ones' grandmother and Drew's great-great-grandmother.

I once had fallen in love with a Necromancer, who offered me the opportunity to be brought back to life so we can live together at the cost of alienating my family and sacrificing generations of magical spirits. But I told him that our love isn't nearly as powerful as the love I have for my family."

Drew looked around and saw everybody literally copying down all about what Grams had just said. Then, he encouragely smiled at Grams who smiled back at Drew. "Who started the Warren Line?" said Hermione curiously.

"The Warren Line originally began with Charlotte Warren and Lawrence Cutler, Melinda's parents. Charlotte was a member of a coven of witches in Colonial Virginia." explained Grams. "Towards the end of her pregnancy with her daughter, she was kidnapped by an evil practitioner named Ruth Cobb who sought to use the baby's powers for darkness instead of for good. On October 31, 1670, the day of Melinda Warren's birth, Charlotte was rescued by the Charmed Ones, who were sent back in time in order to preserve the destiny of good magic, and delivered Melinda in a protective circle with the help of one of my granddaughter, Piper Halliwell.

Melinda Warren grew up to be the original source of the Warren line's powers and created the Book of Shadows. As a witch, she practiced the powers of telekinesis, molecular immobilization, and premonition.

She had a daughter named Prudence and was the lover of Matthew Tate. Matthew had a power too which is copying a witch's power. After he had copied Melinda's powers, Matthew exposed Melinda as a witch, dooming her.

She avenged herself by condemning him to be imprisoned for all eternity in the very locket that he had given her. Though she could have used her powers to escape the pyre, Melinda allowed herself to burn so that her daughter would be safe from persecution and could go on to continue the Warren line.

While at the stake, she prophesied that each of her descendants would grow stronger and stronger, culminating in three sisters who would be the most powerful good witches ever to walk the earth—the Charmed Ones.

Prudence Warren was Melinda's only child, and was revealed to have the powers of telekinesis and premonition. She continued writing in the well-hidden Book of Shadows, and had a daughter named Cassandra Warren, who became the last known Warren witch-until the arrival of Phoebe Halliwell-to possess the power of premonitions. Cassandra later married and adopted her husband's last name-Wentworth.

Cassandra is the mother of Beatrice Warren, Brianna Warren-Wentworth, Jack Warren and Grace Warren-Wentworth. But it appears to conflict with Melinda's prophecy before her death, of the Warren line growing in power to produce three sisters, so there were not three sisters in the Warren line before Prue, Piper and Phoebe, them being the prophecied Charmed Ones.

However, there was a child between Brianna Warren-Wentworth and Grace, Jack who had no powers, unlike Beatrice, Brianna and Grace, who are noted as possessing molecular immobilization, telekinesis and Minor Precognition, respectively.

Beatrice Warren was married with Clarence Bousquet and had one daughter with him: Pamela Bousquet. Pamela had the power of Telepathy and Invisibility.

She didn't have childeren, but she was the lover the demon Qualmor. Grace Warren Wentworth did have one daughter named Helen Warren, who had the power of Psychokinesis and had a daughter named Astrid Warren. She didn't have children.

Brianna Warren-Wentworth was married to Joseph Litchfield. They had two children: Elizabeth Litchfield & Joseph Litchfield, Jr. Elizabeth had the power of Molecular Immobilization and had two children: Michael Williamson, Jr. & Margaret Anne Williamson. It's unknown what kind of powers Joseph had.

Margaret was the mother of Maximilian Warren, Pauline Warren, Christina Bowen and Josephine Amanda Warren. Christina had 4 children: Laura Anne Bowen, Jeffrey Bowen, Beatrice Bowen and Grace Bowen. Beatrice had a daughter Helena Bowen, she had one daughter, Astrid Bowen. Astrid didnt have any children.

Jeffrey had a daughter, Polianna Warren. Polianna had also 4 children: Agnes Warren-Bowen, Brianna Warren, Philippa Warren and Gregory Bowen—" She paused, looking confused.

"Professor, isn't Uncle Wyatt the first male who born into the Warren Line?" asked Drew, also looking confused. "I don't actually know. Perhaps Grace is a cousin or niece of Cassandra who was adopted after the death of her mother and/or parents. Gregory might also be adopted, explaining how a male was born into the Warren line of witches." said Grams.

"Anyways, Gregory did not have any powers, but he married a woman named Lola and fathered the good witch Phoebe Bowen. His sisters Philippa and Agnes also married, taking the last names Baxter and Russell, and producing P. Baxter and Pearl Russell, respectively.

Thus, the next generation of Warren witches were cousins P. Bowen, who had the power of cryokinesis, P. Baxter, who had the power of molecular immobilization, and P. Russell, who had the power of pyrokinesis. The three cousins turned the Halliwell Manor into a speakeasy during Prohibition in the 1920s.

P. Bowen worked as a photographer at the speakeasy while Baxter was the primary runner and caretaker, and Russell acted as a fortune teller and witch-for-hire for those who came to the Manor.

P. Baxter's husband, Gordon Johnson, my father, and thus Drew's great-great-great-grandfather. I, Penelope Johnson was the daughter of P. Baxter and Gordon Johnson, wife of Allen Halliwell, and mother of Patty Halliwell.

I was born in a hotel room in Boston. I was gifted with telekinesis Believe it or not, I was married four times, engaged six times, and divorced three times."

Everyone except Drew who already knew, opened their mouths in shocked. "Patricia (Patty) Halliwell was the mother of Prue, Piper, Phoebe Halliwell and Paige Matthews, great-grandmother of Drew, ex-wife of Victor Bennett, and former lover of Samuel Wilder who was also her former Whitelighter.

She was born in 1950. Patty had the power of molecular immobilisation. After getting divorced from Victor and getting into a relationship with Sam Wilder, Patty became pregnant with her fourth daughter, Paige, and gave her up to a church soon after she was born, fearing reprecussions of the Elders if they discovered she'd had a child with her Whitelighter which was illegal. Soon after, Patty was drowned by a water demon."

"Why was that illegal, Professor?" asked Harry finally. "I don't know, it wasn't me who made the rules, Mr. Potter," said Grams softly. "Prudence Halliwell, Piper Halliwell, and Phoebe Halliwell were raised in the Halliwell manor by me who died years afterwards.

After the death of thier eldest sister, Prue, the sisters were revealed to have another sister, Paige Matthews. She was taken in by Piper and Phoebe to not only be loved but trained as a witch.

As time went by, Piper, now the eldest sister, had two sons, Wyatt and Chris Halliwell, with her husband, who was at the time an Elder, Leo Wyatt.

After he fell from grace and became mortal they had another child, Melinda Halliwell. Phoebe, the living middle sister, found love in a cupid named Coop, whom she soon married.

The couple went on to have three daughters, one of them being named Prudence Johnna Halliwell. Paige, the youngest sister, also married; but unlike her sisters, she wed a mortal named Henry Mitchell. The two have twin daughters, Tamora and Kat and a son, Henry Mitchell Jr.

Years later, Parker Halliwell, one of Phoebe's daughter, married a guy named John Constantine and have a son named George Constantine.

Kat Mitchell married Tyler Lupin, the younger brother of our Defense against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Remus Lupin. They have a daughter and a son, Wendy and Randy Lupin.

Lastly, Chris Halliwell and Catherine Taylor Smith got married and have three sons, Drew—" said Grams as he turned to Drew. "Dylan and Damien. But unfortunately, Catherine died five years later after he had Drew."

Drew's face darkened. The bell rang and everyone started packing. "Er—For today's extra assignment, make a family tree of the Halliwell family, but it will be ok if you don't want to make it," said Grams. "That will be all,"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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	6. Castle Arrest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drew got sick and had to stay at Hogwarts with Harry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like/Kudos= Pro
> 
> Comment=Hacker
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> Bookmark=God
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> Ignore=Noob

In no time at all, Defense Against the Dark Arts had become most people's favorite class. Only Draco Malfoy and his gang of Slytherins had anything bad to say about Professor Lupin.

"Look at the state of his robes," Malfoy would say in a loud whisper as Professor Lupin passed. "He dresses like our old house elf." But no one else cared that Professor Lupin's robes were patched and frayed.

His next few lessons were just as interesting as the first. After Boggarts, they studied Red Caps, nasty little goblin-like creatures that lurked wherever there had been bloodshed: in the dungeons of castles and the potholes of deserted battlefields, waiting to bludgeon those who had gotten lost.

From Red Caps they moved on to Kappas, creepy. water-dwellers that looked like scaly monkeys, with webbed hands itching to strangle unwitting waders in their ponds.

Drew only wished he was as happy with some of his other classes. Worst of all was Potions. Snape was in a particularly vindictive mood these days, and no one was in any doubt why.

The story of the Boggart assuming Snape's shape, and the way that Neville had dressed it in his grandmother's clothes, had traveled through the school like wildfire.

Snape didn't seem to find it funny. His eyes flashed menacingly at the very mention of Professor Lupin's name, and he was bullying Neville worse than ever.

Meanwhile, History of Magic was no longer the most boring subject in Hogwarts. When Grams was talking about the First Wizarding War, she summoned the ghosts of wizards and witches who died during the battle and they told the students about their times back in the day. 

While in Divination, Drew, Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown were the only people who really paid attention on deciphering lopsided shapes and symbols that day.

Parvati and Lavender had taken to haunting Professor Trelawney's tower room at lunch times, and always returned with annoyingly superior looks on their faces, as though they knew things the others didn't.

They had also started using hushed voices whenever they spoke to Harry, as though he were on his deathbed.

Nobody really liked Care of Magical Creatures, which, after the action-packed first class, had become extremely dull. Hagrid seemed to have lost his confidence.

They were now spending lesson after lesson learning how to look after flobberworms, which had to be some of the most boring creatures in existence.

"Why would anyone bother looking after them?" said Ron, after yet another hour of poking shredded lettuce down the flobberworms' throats. "To you, they are nothing; but to Hagrid, these worms maybe are important to him..." said Drew unsurely.

It was the the start of October and the Quidditch season was approaching, and Oliver Wood, Captain of the Gryffindor team, called a meeting on Thursday evening to discuss tactics for the new season.

There were seven people on a Quidditch team: three Chasers, whose job it was to score goals by putting the Quaffle (a red, soccer-sized ball) through one of the fifty-foot-high hoops at each end of the field; two Beaters, who were equipped with heavy bats to repel the Bludgers (two heavy black balls that zoomed around trying to attack the players); a Keeper, who defended the goal posts, and the Seeker, who had the hardest job of all, that of catching the Golden Snitch, a tiny, winged, walnut-sized ball, whose capture ended the game and earned the Seeker's team an extra one hundred and fifty points.

Oliver Wood was a burly seventeen-year-old, now in his seventh and final year at Hogwarts. There was a quiet sort of desperation in his voice as he addressed his six fellow team members in the chilly locker rooms on the edge of the darkening Quidditch field.

"This is our last chance—my last chance—to win the Quidditch Cup," he told them, striding up and down in front of them. "I'll be leaving at the end of this year. I'll never get another shot at it."

"Gryffindor hasn't won for seven years now. Okay, so we've had the worst luck in the world—injuries—then the tournament getting called off last year." Wood swallowed, as though the memory still brought a lump to his throat. "But we also know we've got the best—ruddy—team—in—the—school," he said, punching a fist into his other hand, the old manic glint back in his eye. "We've got three superb Chasers."

Wood pointed at Drew, Angelina Johnson, and Katie Bell. "We've got two unbeatable Beaters." "Stop it, Oliver, you're embarrassing us," said Fred and George Weasley together, pretending to blush.

"And we've got a Seeker who has never failed to win us a match!" Wood rumbled, glaring at Harry with a kind of furious pride. "And me," he added as an afterthought.

"We think you're very good too, Oliver," said George. "Spanking good Keeper," said Fred. "The point is," Wood went on, resuming his pacing, "the Quidditch Cup should have had our name on it these last two years. Ever since Harry joined the team, I've thought the thing was in the bag. But we haven't got it, and this year's the last chance we'll get to finally see our name on the thing..."

Wood spoke so dejectedly that even Fred and George looked sympathetic. "Oliver, this year's our year," said Fred. "We'll do it, Oliver!" said Angelina. "We will do anything for the Cup!" said Drew. "Definitely," said Harry.

Full of determination, the team started training sessions, three evenings a week. The weather was getting colder and wetter, the nights darker, but no amount of mud, wind, or rain could tarnish Drew's wonderful vision of finally winning the huge, silver Quidditch Cup.

Harry and Drew returned to the Gryffindor common room one evening after training, cold and stiff but pleased with the way practice had gone, to find the room buzzing excitedly.

"What's happened?" Harry asked Ron and Hermione, who were sitting in two of the best chairs by the fireside and completing some star charts for Astronomy.

"First Hogsmeade weekend," said Ron, pointing at a notice that had appeared on the battered old bulletin board. "End of October. Halloween."

"Excellent," said Fred, who had followed Harry through the portrait hole. "I need to visit Zonko's. I'm nearly out of Stink Pellets."

Harry threw himself into a chair beside Ron and Drew sat on a chair next to Harry. Harry looked a bit disappointed. Hermione seemed to read his mind.

"Harry, I'm sure you'll be able to go next time," she said. "They're bound to catch Black soon. He's been sighted once already."

"Black's not fool enough to try anything in Hogsmeade," said Ron. "Ask McGonagall if you can go this time, Harry. The next one might not be for ages—"

"Ron!" said Hermione. "Harry's supposed to stay in school—" "He can't be the only third year left behind," said Ron. "Ask McGonagall, go on, Harry—" "Yeah, I think I will," said Harry, making up his mind.

Hermione opened her mouth to argue, but at that moment Crookshanks leapt lightly onto her lap. A large, dead spider was dangling from his mouth.

"Does he have to eat that in front of us?" said Ron, scowling. "Clever Crookshanks, did you catch that all by yourself?" said Hermione.

"Ew, that's gross, lucky Peter didn't have to see this," said Drew. "He really loves spiders." "Peter is the one who is weird," said Ron disgustingly. Crookshanks; slowly chewed up the spider, his yellow eyes fixed insolently on Ron.

"Just keep him over there, that's all," said Ron irritably, turning back to his star chart. "I've got Scabbers asleep in my bag—" Suddenly, Drew coughed.

Then, Drew coughed multiple times. The other three looked at Drew worriedly. "Drew, are you ok?" asked Hermione. "I-I—cough—I'm fine," said Drew weakly.

Harry put the back of his hand on Drew's forehead. "Drew," said Harry. "You have a fever," "I'm fine—cough—"

"It might be the rain that cause it," said Hermione. "Drew, you need to see Madam Pomfrey, right now," said Ron as Drew coughed again.

"But what about your homework?" asked Hermione. "I had done it," said Drew and they looked at him shockingly. "I had an accidental premonition so—cough—"

"Let me go with you, Drew," said Harry. They exited the Gryffindor Tower and headed to the Hospital Wing. Along the way, Harry looked sleepy and yawned.

"You don't have to accompany me like a kid you know—cough—" said Drew, shivering. "You're my boyfriend, I cared about you," said Harry, keeping Drew warm. "You always use the boyfriend term as an excuse," said Drew. "Eh, what can I say?"

When they had arrived, Madam Pomfrey was the first person they saw. "What happened?" said Madam Pomfrey at once. "Fever," said Harry as Drew coughed. "Oh, I think I have a few Pepperup Potions left, just wait for a minute,"

Madam Pomfrey went to her closet, searching for the medicine while Harry and Drew sat on one of the bed. Harry and Drew really wanted to go to sleep but it'll have to wait.

"Here it is," said Madam Pomfrey as he handed a bottle of potion to Drew. "Drink this and you should be ok," Without hesitation, Drew drank it at once.

After a few seconds, Drew coughed uncontrollably. "Hmm, that's weird, it usually works," said Madam Pomfrey as Drew coughed again.

"Well, can't you do anything?" said Harry. "I guess you just have to get some rest and drink a lot of water, you can go now," said Madam Pomfrey and she headed back to her desk.

"You know, Drew, I was tired of walking around, can you orb us, please?" said Harry cutely. Drew chuckled. "Of course—" coughed Drew as he orbed them both to the Gryffindor Tower.

As they arrived, they saw Hermione and Ron were arguing. "Look at him!" he said furiously to Hermione, dangling Ron's rat, Scabbers, in front of her. "He's skin and bone! You keep that cat away from him!" "Crookshanks doesn't understand it's wrong!" said Hermione, her voice shaking. "All cats chase rats, Ron!"

"There's something funny about that animal!" said Ron, who was trying to persuade a frantically wiggling Scabbers back into his pocket. "It heard me say that Scabbers was in my bag!"

"Oh, what rubbish," said Hermione impatiently. "Crookshanks could smell him, Ron, how else d'you think—"

"That cat's got it in for Scabbers!" said Ron, ignoring the people around him, who were starting to giggle.

"And Scabbers was here first, and he's ill!" Ron marched through the common room and out of sight up the stairs to the boys' dormitories without noticing Harry and Drew.

"What happened?" said Harry and Drew to George Weasley. "Hermione's cat attacked Scabbers," said George casually. "Well, it's about time for that rat to get some exercise," added Fred, who was standing next to George.

Ron was still in a bad mood with Hermione next day. He barely talked to her all through Herbology, even though he, Harry, Drew, and Hermione were working together on the same Puffapod.

"How's Scabbers?" Hermione asked timidly as they stripped fat pink pods from the plants and emptied the shining beans into a wooden pail.

"He's hiding at the bottom of my bed, shaking," said Ron angrily, missing the pail and scattering beans over the greenhouse floor.

"Careful, Weasley, careful!" cried Professor Sprout as the beans burst into bloom before their very eyes.

They had Transfiguration next. Harry, who had resolved to ask Professor McGonagall after the lesson whether he could go into Hogsmeade with the rest, joined the line outside the class.

Harry, Drew, Ron and Hermione saw a disturbance at the front of the line. Lavender Brown seemed to be crying.

Parvati had her arm around her and was explaining something to Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas, who were looking very serious.

"What's the matter, Lavender?" said Hermione anxiously as she, Harry, Drew, and Ron went to join the group. "She got a letter from home this morning," Parvati whispered. "It's her rabbit, Binky. He's been killed by a fox."

"Oh," said Hermione, "I'm sorry, Lavender." "I should have known!" said Lavender tragically. "You know what day it is?" "Er—" "The sixteenth of October! _'That thing you're dreading, it will happen on the sixteenth of October!'_ Remember? She was right, she was right!"

The whole class was gathered around Lavender now. Seamus shook his head seriously. Hermione hesitated; then she said, "You—you were dreading Binky being killed by a fox?"

"Well, not necessarily by a fox," said Lavender, looking up at Hermione with streaming eyes, "but I was obviously dreading him dying, wasn't I?" "Oh," said Hermione. She paused again. Then—

"Was Binky an old rabbit?" "N—no!" sobbed Lavender. "H—he was only a baby!" Parvati tightened her arm around Lavender's shoulders. "But then, why would you dread him dying?" said Hermione.

Parvati glared at her. "Well, look at it logically," said Hermione, turning to the rest of the group. "I mean, Binky didn't even die today, did he? Lavender just got the news today—" Lavender wailed loudly. "and she can't have been dreading it, because it's come as a real shock—" "Don't mind Hermione, Lavender," said Ron loudly, "she doesn't think other people's pets matter very much."

Professor McGonagall opened the classroom door at that moment, which was perhaps lucky; Hermione and Ron were looking daggers at each other, and when they got into class, they seated themselves on either side of Harry and Drew and didn't talk to each other for the whole class.

"One moment, please!" she called as the class made to leave. "As you're all in my House, you should hand Hogsmeade permission forms to me before Halloween. No form, no visiting the village, so don't forget!"

Neville put up his hand. "Please, Professor, I—I think I've lost" "Your grandmother sent yours to me directly, Longbottom," said Professor McGonagall. "She seemed to think it was safer. Well, that's all, you may leave—"

Drew suddenly coughed once again. _'Oh no, not again'_ thought Drew. "What's wrong with you, Mr. Halliwell?" asked Professor McGonagall. "F-fever—cough—"

Professor McGonagall took out her wand and put it on Drew's forehead; the wand turned flaming red. "Mr. Halliwell, you have a severe fever," said Professor McGonagall worriedly.

"I'm fine, Professor. Madam Pomfrey told me to rest, so I'm going to be ok," said Drew as he coughed again. "Well, I'm sorry to tell you that I will not allow you to go to Hogsmeade,"

"What!" said Drew shockingly. "I'm sorry, but I can't allow you to go there with you being sick, you said it yourself, you need to rest," said Professor McGonagall strictly and she proceeded to turned around and headed back to her desk.

"I'm sorry, Drew," said Harry as Drew coughed again. "She is right though," said Hermione. "What if you spread your disease and make everyone sick?"

Harry and Ron gave Hermione a 'that's-not-helping' stare. Ron then remembered about something. "Ask her now," Ron hissed at Harry. "About the Hogsmeade permission form," "Oh. but—" Hermione began. "Go for it, Harry," said Ron stubbornly.

Harry waited for the rest of the class to disappear, then headed nervously for Professor McGonagall's desk. "Yes, Potter?" Harry took a deep breath.

"Professor, my aunt and uncle—er—forgot to sign my form," he said. Professor McGonagall looked over her square spectacles at him but didn't say anything. "So—er—d'you think it would be all right mean, will It be okay if I—if I go to Hogsmeade?"

Professor McGonagall looked down and began shuffling papers on her desk. "I'm afraid not, Potter," she said. "You heard what I said. No form, no visiting the village. That's the rule."

"But—Professor, my aunt and uncle—you know, they're Muggles, they don't really understand about—about Hogwarts forms and stuff," Harry said, while Ron egged him on with vigorous nods. "If you said I could go—"

"But I don't say so," said Professor McGonagall, standing up and piling her papers neatly into a drawer. "The form clearly states that the parent or guardian must give permission."

She turned to look at him, with an odd expression on her face. Was it pity? "I'm sorry, Potter, but that's my final word. You had better hurry, or you'll be late for your next lesson."

There was nothing to be done. Ron called Professor McGonagall a lot of names that greatly annoyed Hermione; Hermione assumed an 'all-for-the-best' expression that made Ron even angrier, and Harry and Drew had to endure everyone in the class talking loudly and happily about what they were going to do first, once they got into Hogsmeade.

"And it's just because of a fever," said Drew sadly. "There's always the feast," said Ron, in an effort to cheer Harry and Drew up. "You know, the Halloween feast, in the evening." "Yeah," said Harry gloomily, "great."

The Halloween feast was always good, but it would taste a lot better if they were coming to it after a day in Hogsmeade with everyone else.

Nothing anyone said made Harry feel any better about being left behind. Dean Thomas, who was good with a quill, had offered to forge Uncle Vernon's signature on the form, but as Harry had already told Professor McGonagall he hadn't had it signed, that was no good.

Dylan tried to cure Drew's fever by using magic but Drew reminded him about the 'personal gain' term. Peter also tried to help Drew but he used Science instead; he made a Muggle medicine by himself but Drew was unsure if the medicine was safe so he told him that he will be okay without it.

Ron halfheartedly suggested the Invisibility Cloak, but Hermione stamped on that one, reminding Ron what Dumbledore had told them about the Dementors being able to see through them. Percy had what were possibly the least helpful words of comfort.

"They make a fuss about Hogsmeade, but I assure you, Harry, it's not all it's cracked up to be," he said seriously. "All right, the sweetshop's rather good, and Zonko's Joke Shop's frankly dangerous, and yes, the Shrieking Shack's always worth a visit, but really, Harry, apart from that, you're not missing anything."

On Halloween morning, Harry and Drew awoke with the rest and went down to breakfast, feeling thoroughly depressed, though doing his best to act normally.

"We'll bring you two lots of sweets back from Honeydukes," said Hermione, looking desperately sorry for them. "Yeah, loads," said Ron.

He and Hermione had finally forgotten their squabble about Crookshanks in the face of Harry's and Drew's difficulties.

"Don't worry about us," said Harry, in what he hoped was at, offhand voice, "I'll see you at the feast. Have a good time."

"I hope you two won't be doing something stupid," said Hermione. "Or something disgusting," added Ron who was elbowed by Hermione a second later.

Harry and Drew accompanied them to the entrance hall, where Filch, the caretaker, was standing inside the front doors, checking off names against a long list, peering suspiciously into every face, and making sure that no one was sneaking out who shouldn't be going.

"Staying here, Potter, Halliwell?" shouted Malfoy, who was standing in line with Crabbe and Goyle. "Scared of passing the Dementors, Potter? Do you want Potter to hug you, Halliwell?"

Harry and Drew ignored him and made their way up the marble staircase, through the deserted corridors, and back to Gryffindor Tower. "Password?" said the Fat Lady, jerking out of a doze. "Fortuna Major," said Harry listlessly.

The portrait swung open and he climbed through the hole into the common room. It was full of chattering first-and second-years, and a few older students, who had obviously visited Hogsmeade so often the novelty had worn off.

"Harry! Harry! Hi, Harry!" It was Colin Creevey, a second year who was deeply in awe of Harry and never missed an opportunity to speak to him.

"Aren't you going to Hogsmeade, Harry? Why not? Hey—" Colin looked eagerly around at his friends. "you can come and sit with us, if you like, Harry! You can come too, Drew,"

"Er—no, thanks, Colin," said Harry, who wasn't in the mood to have a lot of people staring avidly at the scar on his forehead. "We-we've got to go to the library, got to get some work done."

After that, he grabbed Drew's hand and had no choice but to turn right around and head back out of the portrait hole again. "What was the point of waking me up?" the Fat Lady called grumpily after him as he walked away.

Harry and Drew wandered dispiritedly toward the library, but halfway there Harry changed his mind; he stopped and turned to Drew. "I don't feel like working," said Harry. "So do I," agreed Drew as he coughed slightly.

They turned around and came face-to-face with Filch, who had obviously just seen off the last of the Hogsmeade visitors. "What are you two doing?" Filch snarled suspiciously. "Nothing," said Harry truthfully.

"Nothing!" spat Filch, his jowls quivering unpleasantly. "A likely story! Sneaking around on your own—why aren't you in Hogsmeade buying Stink Pellets and Belch Powder and Whizzing Worms like the rest of your nasty little friends?"

Harry shrugged while Drew stayed silent. "Well, get back to your common room where you belong!" snapped Filch, and he stood glaring until Harry and Drew had passed out of sight.

Drew just decided to return to the common room when Harry said, "Let's go to the Owlery," "Why?" said Drew curiously. "I just want to see Hedwig, but if you don't want to come, I understand—"

"Of course I will go with you, I don't want the Fat Lady to scold me for coming in and out from the common room for two times now," said Drew jokingly. Harry chuckled.

Then, they climbed a staircase, and was walking along another corridor when a voice from inside one of the rooms said, "Harry? Drew?"

Harry and Drew doubled back to see who had spoken and met Professor Lupin, looking around his office door.

"What are you two doing?" said Lupin, though in a very different voice from Filch. "Where are Ron and Hermione?"

"Hogsmeade," said Harry, in a would-be casual voice. "Ah," said Lupin. He considered Harry and Drew for a moment. "Why don't you boys come in? I've just taken delivery of a Grindylow for our next lesson."

"A what?" said Harry. They followed Lupin into his office. In the corner stood a very large tank of water.

A sickly green creature with sharp little horns had its face pressed against the glass, pulling faces and flexing its long, spindly fingers.

"Water demon," said Lupin, surveying the Grindylow thoughtfully. "We shouldn't have much difficulty with him, not after the Kappas. The trick is to break his grip. You notice the abnormally long fingers? Strong, but very brittle."

The Grindylow bared its green teeth and then buried itself in a tangle of weeds in a corner as Drew coughed again for multiple times.

"What's wrong?" said Lupin. "He has a fever, sir," said Harry. "Oh, hope you get well soon," Drew smiled as he coughed again.

"Cup of tea?" Lupin said, looking around for his kettle. "I was just thinking of making one." "All right/Sure," said Harry and Drew awkwardly.

Lupin tapped the kettle with his wand and a blast of steam issued suddenly from the spout.

"Sit down," said Lupin, taking the lid off a dusty tin. "I've only got teabags, I'm afraid—but I daresay you've had enough of tea leaves?"

Harry and Drew looked at him. Lupin's eyes were twinkling. "How did you know about that?" Harry asked. "Professor McGonagall told me," said Lupin, passing Harry and Drew a chipped mug of tea. "You're not worried, are you?" "No," said Harry.

Drew looked at Harry, who was looking worried. He grabbed Harry's hand and squeezed it hard. Harry turned to Drew and smiled.

Something of Harry's thoughts seemed to have shown on his face, because Lupin said, "Anything worrying you, Harry?" "No," Harry told Professor Lupin.

They drank a bit of tea and watched the Grindylow brandishing a fist at him. "Yes," he said suddenly, putting his tea down on Lupin's desk. "You know that day we fought the Boggart?" "Yes," said Lupin slowly. "Why didn't you let me fight it?" said Harry abruptly.

Lupin raised his eyebrows. "I would have thought that was obvious, Harry," he said, sounding surprised. Harry, who had expected Lupin to deny that he'd done any such thing, was taken aback.

"Why?" he said again. "Well," said Lupin, frowning slightly, "I assumed that if the Boggart faced you, it would assume the shape of Lord Voldemort."

Harry and Drew stared. Not only was this the last answer he'd expected, but Lupin had said Voldemort's name.

The only person Drew had ever heard say the name aloud (apart from himself) was Harry and Professor Dumbledore.

"Clearly, I was wrong," said Lupin, still frowning at Harry. "But I didn't think it a good idea for Lord Voldemort to materialize in the staffroom. I imagined that people would panic." "You have a good point, Uncle," said Drew.

"I didn't think of Voldemort," said Harry honestly. "I—I remembered those Dementors." Drew then looked at Harry sympathetically.

"I see," said Lupin thoughtfully. "Well, well...I'm impressed." He smiled slightly at the look of surprise on Harry's face. "That suggests that what you fear most of all is—fear. Very wise, Harry."

Harry didn't know what to say to that, so he drank some more tea while Drew had already drank his tea up.

"So you've been thinking that I didn't believe you capable of fighting the Boggart?" said Lupin shrewdly. "Well...yeah," said Harry. There was now a smile on Harry's face. "Professor Lupin, you know the Dementors—"

He was interrupted by a knock on the door. "Come in," called Lupin. The door opened, and in came Snape. He was carrying a goblet, which was smoking faintly, and stopped at the sight of Harry and Drew, his black eyes narrowing.

"Ah, Severus," said Lupin, smiling. "Thanks very much. Could you leave it here on the desk for me?" Snape set down the smoking goblet, his eyes wandering between Harry and Lupin. "I was just showing Harry and Drew my Grindylow," said Lupin pleasantly, pointing at the tank.

"Fascinating," said Snape, without looking at it. "You should drink that directly, Lupin." "Yes, Yes, I will," said Lupin. "I made an entire cauldronful," Snape continued. "If you need more."

"I should probably have some again tomorrow. Thanks very much, Severus." "Not at all," said Snape, but there was a look in his eye Drew didn't like. He backed out of the room, unsmiling and watchful.

Harry and Drew looked curiously at the goblet. Lupin smiled. "Professor Snape has very kindly concocted a potion for me," he said. "I have never been much of a potion-brewer and this one is particularly complex."

He picked up the goblet and sniffed it. "Pity sugar makes it useless," he added, taking a sip and shuddering.

"Is it really safe?" asked Drew. "Of course it's safe but it tastes like a leprechaun's dung," "Why—?" Harry began. Lupin looked at him and answered the unfinished question.

"I've been feeling a bit off-color," he said. "This potion is the only thing that helps. I am very lucky to be working alongside Professor Snape; there aren't many wizards who are up to making it."

Professor Lupin took another sip and Drew had a crazy urge to knock the goblet out of his hands. "Professor Snape's very interested in the Dark Arts," he blurted out. "Really?" said Lupin, looking only mildly interested as he took another gulp of potion.

"Some people reckon—" Harry hesitated, then plunged recklessly on, "some people reckon he'd do anything to get the Defense Against the Dark Arts job."

Lupin drained the goblet and pulled a face. "Disgusting," he said. "Well, Harry, I'd better get back to work. See you two at the feast later."

"Right," said Harry, putting down his empty teacup. The empty goblet was still smoking. Drew wanted to take a look on the goblet so he grabbed it and gasped; he has been sucked into a premonition.

It showed a four/five year old boy, sleeping peacefully in his bed. Suddenly, a large, vicious-looking man with matted grey hair and whiskers forced open the window that was in the room.

The creature had pointed teeth and long yellowish nails; it was a werewolf. He tiptoed towards the boy and he immediately bit his neck. The boy opened his eyes and saw the werewolf. He then screamed in pain and terror.

Then, an older man opened the door, he looked similar to Professor Lupin. When he saw the werewolf, he took out his wand and casted a number of powerful curses which drove the werewolf out of the house.

"Drew, are you ok?" Drew opened his eyes and saw Professor Lupin and Harry were staring at him. "Drew, are you ok?" asked Harry again.

"Yeah, I'm fine," said Drew, sweating. As Harry and Drew left the room, Drew gave Professor Lupin a serious stare.

"There you go," said Ron. "We got as much as we could carry." A shower of brilliantly colored sweets fell into Harry's and Drew's lap.

It was dusk, and Ron and Hermione had just turned up in the common room, pink-faced from the cold wind and looking as though they'd had the time of their lives.

"Thanks," said Harry, picking up a packet of tiny black Pepper Imps. "What's Hogsmeade like? Where did you go?" By the sound of it—everywhere.

Dervish and Banges, the wizarding equipment shop, Zonko's Joke Shop, into the Three Broomsticks for foaming mugs of hot butterbeer, and many places besides.

"The post office, Harry! Drew! About two hundred owls, all sitting on shelves, all color-coded depending on how fast you want your letter to get there!"

"Honeydukes has got a new kind of fudge; they were giving out free samples, there's a bit, look—" "We think we saw an ogre, honestly, they get all sorts at the Three Broomsticks—"

"Wish we could have brought you two some butterbeer, really warms you up—" "What did you two do?" said Hermione, looking anxious. "Did you get any work done?"

"No," said Harry. "Lupin made me a cup of tea in his office. And then Snape came in..." He told them all about the goblet. Ron's mouth fell open.

"Lupin drank it?" he gasped. "Is he mad?" "I'm not sure," said Drew. He didn't know if he should tell his friends about his premonition. Hermione checked her watch.

"We'd better go down, you know, the feast'll be starting in five minutes," They hurried through the portrait hole and into the crowd, still discussing Snape.

"But if he—you know—" Hermione dropped her voice, glancing nervously around, "if he was trying to—to poison Lupin—he wouldn't have done it in front of Harry and Drew." "Yeah, maybe," said Harry as they reached the entrance hall and crossed into the Great Hall.

It had been decorated with hundreds and hundreds of candle-filled pumpkins, a cloud of fluttering live bats, and many flaming orange streamers, which were swimming lazily across the stormy ceiling like brilliant watersnakes.

The food was delicious; even Hermione and Ron, who were full to bursting with Honeydukes sweets, managed second helpings of everything.

Drew kept glancing at the staff table. Professor Lupin looked cheerful and as well as he ever did; he was talking animatedly to tiny little Professor Flitwick, the Charms teacher. He couldn't be even happier for his uncle.

He moved his eyes along the table, to the place where Snape sat. Snape's eyes kept flickering towards Professor Lupin more often than usual which made Drew wondering.

The feast finished with an entertainment provided by the Hogwarts ghosts. They popped out of the walls and tables to do a bit of formation gliding; Nearly Headless Nick, the Gryffindor ghost, had a great success with a reenactment of his own botched beheading.

It had been such a pleasant day with Harry, their good mood couldn't even be spoiled by Malfoy, who shouted through the crowd as they all left the hall, "The Dementors send their love, Potter!"

Harry, Drew, Ron, and Hermione followed the rest of the Gryffindors along the usual path to Gryffindor Tower, but when they reached the corridor that ended with the portrait of the Fat Lady, they found it jammed with students.

"Why isn't anyone going in?" said Ron curiously. Drew peered over the heads in front of him. The portrait seemed to be closed.

"Let me through, please," came Percy's voice, and he came bustling importantly through the crowd. "What's the holdup here? You can't all have forgotten the password—excuse me, I'm Head Boy—"

And then a silence fell over the crowd, from the front first, so that a chill seemed to spread down the corridor.

They heard Percy say, in a suddenly sharp voice, "Somebody get Professor Dumbledore. Quick." People's heads turned; those at the back were standing on tiptoe. "What's going on?" said Ginny and Dylan, who had just arrived.

A moment later, Professor Dumbledore was there, sweeping toward the portrait; the Gryffindors squeezed together to let him through, and Harry, Drew, Ron, and Hermione moved closer to see what the trouble was. "Oh, my—" Hermione grabbed Harry's arm. "Oh no," Drew exclaimed.

The Fat Lady had vanished from her portrait, which had been slashed so viciously that strips of canvas littered the floor; great chunks of it had been torn away completely.

Dumbledore took one quick look at the ruined painting and turned, his eyes somber, to see Professors McGonagall, Lupin, and Snape hurrying toward him.

"We need to find her," said Dumbledore. "Professor McGonagall, please go to Mr. Filch at once and tell him to search every painting in the castle for the Fat Lady." "You'll be lucky!" said a cackling voice.

It was Peeves the Poltergeist, bobbing over the crowd and looking delighted, as he always did, at the sight of wreckage or worry.

"What do you mean, Peeves?" said Dumbledore calmly, and Peeves's grin faded a little. He didn't dare taunt Dumbledore. Instead he adopted an oily voice that was no better than his cackle.

"Ashamed, Your Headship, sir. Doesn't want to be seen. She's a horrible mess. Saw her running through the landscape up on the fourth floor, sir, dodging between the trees. Crying something dreadful," he said happily. "Poor thing." he added unconvincingly.

"Did she say who did it?" said Dumbledore quietly. "Oh yes, Professorhead," said Peeves, with the air of one cradling a large bombshell in his arms. "He got very angry when she wouldn't let him in, you see." Peeves flipped over and grinned at Dumbledore from between his own legs. "Nasty temper he's got, that Sirius Black."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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> Ignore=Noob


	7. The Attack of the Dementors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drew stood up to Snape.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like/Kudos= Pro
> 
> Comment=Hacker
> 
> Bookmark=God
> 
> Ignore=Noob

Professor Dumbledore sent all the Gryffindors back to the Great Hall, where they were joined ten minutes later by the students from Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin, who all looked extremely confused.

"The teachers and I need to conduct a thorough search of the castle," Professor Dumbledore told them as Professors McGonagall and Flitwick closed all doors into the hall.

"I'm afraid that, for your own safety, you will have to spend the night here. I want the prefects to stand guard over the entrances to the hall and I am leaving the Head Boy and Girl in charge. Any disturbance should be reported to me immediately," he added to Percy, who was looking immensely proud and important. "Send word with one of the ghosts." Professor Dumbledore paused, about to leave the hall, and said, "Oh, yes, you'll be needing..."

One casual wave of his wand and the long tables flew to the edges of the hall and stood themselves against the walls; another wave, and the floor was covered with hundreds of squashy purple sleeping bags. "Sleep well," said Professor Dumbledore, closing the door behind him.

The hall immediately began to buzz excitedly; the Gryffindors were telling the rest of the school what had just happened.

"Everyone into their sleeping bags!" shouted Percy. "Come on, now, no more talking! Lights out in ten minutes!"

"C'mon," Ron said to Harry, Drew and Hermione; they seized three sleeping bags and dragged them into a corner. "Do you think Black's still in the castle?" Hermione whispered anxiously.

"Dumbledore obviously thinks he might be," said Ron. "It's very lucky he picked tonight, you know," said Hermione as they climbed fully dressed into their sleeping bags and propped themselves on their elbows to talk.

"The one night we weren't in the tower..." "Lucky?" said Drew, raising his eyebrows. "Hermione, he's a serial killer for God's sake,"

"I reckon he's lost track of time, being on the run," said Ron. "Didn't realize it was Halloween. Otherwise he'd have come bursting in here." Hermione shuddered.

All around them, people were asking one another the same question: "How did he get in?" "Maybe he knows how to Apparate," said a Ravenclaw a few feet away, "Just appear out of thin air, you know."

"Disguised himself, probably," said a Hufflepuff fifth year. "He could've flown in," suggested Dean Thomas. "Honestly, am I the only person who's ever bothered to read _Hogwarts, A History_?" said Hermione crossly to Harry, Drew and Ron. "Probably," said Ron. "Why?"

"Because the castle's protected by more than walls, you know," said Hermione. "There are all sorts of enchantments on it, to stop people entering by stealth. You can't just Apparate in here. And I'd like to see the disguise that could fool those Dementors. They're guarding every single entrance to the grounds. They'd have seen him fly in too. And Filch knows all the secret passages, they'll have them covered..."

"The lights are going out now!" Percy shouted. "I want everyone in their sleeping bags and no more talking!" The candles all went out at once.

The only light now came from the silvery ghosts, who were drifting about talking seriously to the prefects, and the enchanted ceiling, which, like the sky outside, was scattered with stars.

What with that, and the whispering that still filled the hall, Drew felt as though he were sleeping in a broken fridge.

Once every hour, a teacher would reappear in the Hall to check that everything was quiet. Around three in the morning, when many students had finally fallen asleep, Professor Dumbledore came in.

Drew watched him looking around for Percy, who had been prowling between the sleeping bags, telling people off for talking.

Percy was only a short way away from Harry, Drew, Ron, and Hermione, who quickly pretended to be asleep as Dumbledore's footsteps drew nearer.

"Any sign of him, Professor?" asked Percy in a whisper. "No. All well here?" "Everything under control, sir." "Good. There's no point moving them all now. I've found a temporary guardian for the Gryffindor portrait hole. You'll be able to move them back in tomorrow."

"And the Fat Lady, sir?" "Hiding in a map of Argyllshire on the second floor. Apparently she refused to let Black in without the password, so he attacked. She's still very distressed, but once she's calmed down, I'll have Mr Filch restore her."

Drew heard the door of the hall creak open again, and more footsteps. "Headmaster?" It was Snape.

Drew kept quite still, listening hard. "The whole of the third floor has been searched. He's not there. And Filch has done the dungeons; nothing there either."

"What about the Astronomy tower? Professor Trelawney's room? The Owlery?" "All searched..." "Very well, Severus. I didn't really expect Black to linger."

"Have you any theory as to how he got in, Professor?" asked Snape. "Many, Severus, each of them as unlikely as the next."

Drew opened his eyes a fraction and squinted up to where they stood; Dumbledore's back was to him, but he could see Percy's face, rapt with attention, and Snape's profile, which looked angry.

"You remember the conversation we had, Headmaster, just before—ah—the start of term?" said Snape, who was barely opening his lips, as though trying to block Percy out of the conversation.

"I do, Severus," said Dumbledore, and there was something like warning in his voice. "It seems—almost impossible—that Black could have entered the school without inside help. I did express my concerns when you appointed—"

"I do not believe a single person inside this castle would have helped Black enter it," said Dumbledore, and his tone made it so clear that the subject was closed that Snape didn't reply. "I must go down to the Dementors," said Dumbledore. "I said I would inform them when our search was complete."

"Didn't they want to help, sir?" said Percy. "Oh yes," said Dumbledore coldly. "But I'm afraid no Dementor will cross the threshold of this castle while I am Headmaster." Percy looked slightly abashed.

Dumbledore left the hall, walking quickly and quietly. Snape stood for a moment, watching the headmaster with an expression of deep resentment on his face; then he too left.

Drew glanced sideways at Harry and Hermione. (Ron was lying next to Harry's other side.) Both of them had their eyes open too, reflecting the starry ceiling.

However, Harry was looking into Drew's aqua blue eyes and Drew looked into Harry's emerald green eyes. They both smiled innocently at each other.

But Drew's peaceful thought was interrupted by Ron. "What was all that about?" Ron mouthed.

The school talked of nothing but Sirius Black for the next few days. The theories about how he had entered the castle became wilder and wilder; Hannah Abbott, from Hufflepuff, spent much of their next Herbology class telling anyone who'd listen that Black could turn into a flowering shrub.

Fortunately, Drew had got well which made the Gryffindor Quidditch captain, Oliver Wood, relieved.

The Fat Lady's ripped canvas had been taken off the wall and replaced with the portrait of Sir Cadogan and his fat gray pony. Nobody was very happy about this.

Sir Cadogan spent half his time challenging people to duels, and the rest thinking up ridiculously complicated passwords, which he changed at least twice a day.

"He's a complete lunatic," said Seamus Finnigan angrily to Percy. "Can't we get anyone else?" "None of the other pictures wanted the job," said Percy. "Frightened of what happened to the Fat Lady. Sir Cadogan was the only one brave enough to volunteer."

"Maybe I can," volunteered Drew. "Drew, don't be silly," said Percy seriously. "Black would kill you right away when he saw you,"

Meanwhile with Harry, he was now being closely watched. Teachers found excuses to walk along corridors with him, and Percy Weasley (acting, Drew suspected, on his mother's orders) was tailing him everywhere like an extremely pompous guard dog.

To cap it all, Professor McGonagall summoned Harry into her office, with such a somber expression on her face Drew thought someone must have died.

Apparently, Professor McGonagall tried to stop Harry from playing Quidditch. However, Harry managed to convince her to continue playing Quidditch which made Drew happy.

The weather worsened steadily as the first Quidditch match drew nearer. Undaunted, the Gryffindor team was training harder than ever under the eye of Madam Hooch.

Then, at their final training session before Saturday's match, Oliver Wood gave his team some unwelcome news.

"We're not playing Slytherin!" he told them, looking very angry. "Flint's just been to see me. We're playing Hufflepuff instead."

"Why?" chorused the rest of the team. "Flint's excuse is that their Seeker's arm's still injured," said Wood, grinding his teeth furiously. "But it's obvious why they're doing it. Don't want to play in this weather. Think it'll damage their chances..."

There had been strong winds and heavy rain all day, and as Wood spoke, they heard a distant rumble of thunder.

"There's nothing wrong with Malfoy's arm!" said Harry furiously. "He's faking it!" _'That little piece of shit,'_ thought Drew furiously.

"I know that, but we can't prove it," said Wood bitterly, "And we've been practicing all those moves assuming we're playing Slytherin, and instead it's Hufflepuff, and their style's quite different. They've got a new Captain and Seeker, Cedric Diggory—"

Angelina and Katie suddenly giggled. "What?" said Wood, frowning at this lighthearted behavior. "He's that tall, good-looking one, isn't he?" said Angelina. "Strong and silent," said Katie, and they started to giggle again.

Yes, Cedric is tall, good-looking, strong and silent but Drew didn't think that Cedric was that popular.

"He's only silent because he's too thick to string two words together," said Fred impatiently. "I don't know why you're worried, Oliver, Hufflepuff is a pushover. Last time we played them, Harry caught the Snitch in about five minutes, remember?"

"We were playing in completely different conditions!" Wood shouted, his eyes bulging slightly. "Diggory's put a very strong side together! He's an excellent Seeker! I was afraid you'd take it like this! We mustn't relax! We must keep our focus! Slytherin is trying to wrong-foot us! We must win!"

"Oliver, calm down!" said Fred, looking slightly alarmed. "We're taking Hufflepuff very seriously. Seriously."

The day before the match, the winds reached howling point and the rain fell harder than ever. It was so dark inside the corridors and classrooms that extra torches and lanterns were lit. The Slytherin team was looking very smug indeed, and none more so than Malfoy.

"Ah, if only my arm was feeling a bit better!" he sighed as the gale outside pounded the windows. Drew had no room in his head to worry about anything except the match tomorrow. Oliver Wood kept hurrying up to Harry between classes and giving him tips.

That afternoon, Drew accidentally bumped into Cedric. "Oh, hi Drew," said Cedric in his soft voice. His voice was so warm and cute it didn't only melt womens' heart, it somehow melted Drew's too.

"Oh, Ced," said Drew awkwardly. "—er—long time no see," "I heard that Hufflepuff and Gryffindor will be rivals," said Cedric.

"Yes, that's part of the Slytherin's plan," said Drew, looking disappointed. "I don't want to sound offensive but my team will beat the crap out of yours," "We'll see," chuckled Cedric.

Drew checked his watch and suddenly realized he was ten minutes late for Defense Against the Dark Arts. "Dammit—er—Ced, I gotta go," "Bye, Drew," said Cedric and Drew set off at a run to the classroom.

Drew skidded to a halt outside the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, and suddenly someone was covering Drew's eyes. 

"Who's there?" said Drew warningly as he conjured a fireball. "Guess," said a familiar voice. "Harry?" "Bingo," said Harry as he put his hands by his sides and Drew's fireball vanished.

Drew turned around and scolded him quietly. "Harry, you scared me," "A Halliwell was scared? That's something we don't see everyday," teased Harry, smirking. Drew rolled his eyes. "Why are you late?" asked Harry. 

Drew was just about to answer when the door in front of him suddenly opened. Inside there was no Lupin, instead there was Snape, looking up at them from the teacher's desk.

"This lesson began ten minutes ago, Potter, Halliwell so I think we'll make it ten points from Gryffindor. Each. Sit down."

But Harry and Drew didn't move. "Where's Professor Lupin?" Harry said. "He says he is feeling too ill to teach today," said Snape with a twisted smile. "I believe I told you to sit down?"

Drew's suspicion had been confirmed; Lupin was a werewolf. Harry and Drew stayed where they were. "What's wrong with him?" said Drew.

Snape's black eyes glittered. "Nothing life-threatening," he said, looking as though he wished it were. "Five more points from Gryffindor, and if I have to ask you to sit down again, it will be fifty."

Harry and Drew walked slowly to their seat and sat down. Snape looked around at the class. "As I was saying before Potter and Halliwell interrupted, Professor Lupin has not left any record of the topics you have covered so far—"

"Please, sir, we've done Boggarts, Red Caps, Kappas, and Grindylows," said Hermione quickly, "and we're just about to start—"

"Be quiet," said Snape coldly. "I did not ask for information. I was merely commenting on Professor Lupin's lack of organization."

"He's the best Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher we've ever had," said Dean Thomas boldly, and there was a murmur of agreement from the rest of the class.

Snape looked more menacing than ever. "You are easily satisfied. Lupin is hardly overtaxing you—I would expect first years to be able to deal with Red Caps and Grindylows. Today we shall discuss—"

Drew watched him flick through the textbook, to the very back chapter, which he must know they hadn't covered. "—werewolves," said Snape. _'Yep, Uncle Remus is a werewolf,'_ Drew thought, looking annoyed.

"But, sir," said Hermione, seemingly unable to restrain herself, "we're not supposed to do werewolves yet, we're due to start Hinkypunks—"

"Miss Granger," said Snape in a voice of deadly calm, "I was under the impression that I am teaching this lesson, not you. And I am telling you all to turn to page 394." He glanced around again. "All of you! Now!"

With many bitter sidelong looks and some sullen muttering, the class opened their books. "Which of you can tell me how we distinguish between the werewolf and the true wolf?" said Snape.

Everyone sat in motionless silence; everyone except Hermione, whose hand, as it so often did, had shot straight into the air.

"Anyone?" Snape said, ignoring Hermione. His twisted smile was back. "Are you telling me that Professor Lupin hasn't even taught you the basic distinction between—"

"We told you," said Parvati suddenly, "we haven't got as far as werewolves yet, we're still on—" "Silence!" snarled Snape. "Well, well, well, I never thought I'd meet a third-year class who wouldn't even recognize a werewolf when they saw one. I shall make a point of informing Professor Dumbledore how very behind you all are..."

"Please, sir," said Hermione, whose hand was still in the air, "the werewolf differs from the true wolf in several small ways. The snout of the werewolf—"

"That is the second time you have spoken out of turn, Miss Granger," said Snape coolly. "Five more points from Gryffindor for being an insufferable know-it-all."

Hermione went very red, put down her hand, and stared at the floor with her eyes full of tears. Suddenly, the windows in the classroom all shattered into pieces.

Harry looked at Drew, who was sitting next to him, he was giving Snape a murderous glare. Without hesitation, Snape turned to Drew. "Did you do this, Halliwell?" said Snape coldly. "Yes, sir," Drew confessed darkly.

Snape then fix the windows with his wand. "A hundred points from Gryffindor and..." said Snape expressionless. "if you cause another disaster, I will make sure that you will be expelled—"

Then, Drew stood up. "You can give me a detention, you can take points from Gryffindor, you can even expel me but..." said Drew as his eyes turned black. "never insult my friends ever again,"

The class, who were glaring at Snape, now smiled amusingly at Drew. Snape scanned Drew for a second and said, "Sit. Down." and Drew did.

No one made a sound throughout the rest of the lesson. They sat and made notes on werewolves from the textbook, while Snape prowled up and down the rows of desks, examining the work they had been doing with Professor Lupin.

"Very poorly explained...That is incorrect, the Kappa is more commonly found in Mongolia...Professor Lupin gave this eight out of ten? I wouldn't have given it three..."

When the bell rang at last, Snape held them back. "You will each write an essay, to be handed in to me, on the ways you recognize and kill werewolves. I want two rolls of parchment on the subject, and I want them by Monday morning. It is time somebody took this class in hand."

Harry, Drew, Ron and Hermione left the room with the rest of the class, who waited until they were well out of earshot, then burst into a furious tirade about Snape.

"Snape's never been like this with any of our other Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers, even if he did want the job," Harry said to Hermione. "Why's he got it in for Lupin? D'you think this is all because of the Boggart?"

"I don't know," said Hermione pensively. "But I really hope Professor Lupin gets better soon..." Then, Hermione turned to Drew.

"Thanks, Drew," "For what?" said Drew gloomily. "For standing up to Snape of course," said Ron cheerfully. "I think you are the first person who had done that,"

Drew slept well that night. He dreamt about him, his Dad and Mom, having a picnic at a park together. They looked so happy as if they lived in an Utopia.

Drew's sweet dream was perfect until he suddenly woke up. It was the roaring of the wind that had woken him up. Drew put his glasses on and saw Harry was cursing.

"Harry, what are you doing?" asked Drew, half-asleep. "Oh, Drew," said Harry. "It's just Peeves, he woke me up," "That poltergeist really needs to be taught," said Drew angrily.

"Since that we're awake, let's get ready for the match." said Harry and they both got up, dressed, picked up their brooms, and walked quietly out of the dormitory.

As Harry opened the door, something brushed against Drew's leg. Harry bent down just in time to grab Crookshanks by the end of his bushy tail and drag him outside.

"You know, I reckon Ron was right about you," Harry told Crookshanks suspiciously. "There are plenty of mice around this place—go and chase them. Go on," he added, nudging Crookshanks down the spiral staircase with his foot. "Leave Scabbers alone."

The noise of the storm was even louder in the common room. Drew knew better than to think the match would be canceled; Quidditch matches weren't called off for trifles like thunderstorms. Drew saw Harry was dozing off, looking worried.

"What's wrong?" asked Drew, putting his head on Harry's shoulder. "It's about that Cedric guy," said Harry, putting his arm around Drew. "He's a fifth year and a lot bigger than me and Seekers were usually light and speedy, but Cedric's weight would be an advantage in this weather because he was less likely to be blown off course."

Drew looked at Harry cutely and chuckled. "Harry, can I say something?" "Be my guest," "Harry, you are a great Seeker and so are Cedric," said Drew. "Don't mind Oliver, Harry. Win or not, you always be everyone's favourite Seeker," Harry smiled. 

"Do you know which Snitch that I had caught for past couple of years is my favourite?" said Harry, smirking at Drew.

"Your first one?" "No," chuckled Harry. "It's you, silly," Drew blushed then he kissed Harry on the cheek which made him blushed too.

Harry and Drew whiled away the hours until dawn in front of the fire, getting up every now and then to stop Crookshanks from sneaking up the boys' staircase again.

At long last Harry and Drew thought it must be time for breakfast, so they headed through the portrait hole together. "Stand and fight, you mangy cur—" yelled Sir Cadogan as Drew froze him.

They revived a bit over a large bowl of porridge, and by the time they'd started on toast, the rest of the team had turned up.

"It's going to be a tough one," said Wood, who wasn't eating anything. "Stop worrying, Oliver," said Angelina soothingly, "we don't mind a bit of rain."

But it was considerably more than a bit of rain. Such was the popularity of Quidditch that the whole school turned out to watch the match as usual, but they ran down the lawns toward the Quidditch field, heads bowed against the ferocious wind, umbrellas being whipped out of their hands as they went.

Just before he entered the locker room, Drew saw Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle, laughing and pointing at Harry from under an enormous umbrella on their way to the stadium. Then, their umbrella flew away; Drew conjured some strong winds at them.

The team changed into their scarlet robes and waited for Wood's usual pre-match pep talk, but it didn't come. He tried to speak several times, made an odd gulping noise, then shook his head hopelessly and beckoned them to follow him.

The wind was so strong that they staggered sideways as they walked out onto the field. If the crowd was cheering, they couldn't hear it over the fresh rolls of thunder.

Rain was splattering over Harry's and Drew's glasses. How on earth was Drew going to see the Quaffle in this?

The Hufflepuffs were approaching from the opposite side of the field, wearing canary-yellow robes. The Captains walked up to each other and shook hands; Diggory smiled at Wood but Wood now looked as though he had lockjaw and merely nodded.

Drew saw Madam Hooch's mouth form the words, "Mount Your brooms." He pulled his right foot out of the mud with a squelch and swung it over his Comet Three Sixty.

Madam Hooch put her whistle to her lips and gave it a blast that sounded shrill and distant—they were off.

Drew rose fast, but his Comet was swerving slightly with the wind. He held it as steady as he could and turned, squinting into the rain.

Within five minutes Drew was soaked to his skin and frozen, hardly able to see his teammates. As soon as the match started, Drew grabbed the Quaffle and speeded towards the goal. He immediately scored ten points.

He flew backward and forward across the field past blurred red and yellow shapes, with no idea of what was happening in the rest of the game.

He couldn't hear the commentary over the wind. The crowd was hidden beneath a sea of cloaks and battered umbrellas.

Twice Drew saw Harry came very close to being unseated by a Bludger; his vision was so clouded by the rain on his glasses he hadn't seen them coming.

However, Drew's arm had been hit by the Bludger thrice. "Drew, are you ok?" asked Fred. "I'm fine, it's just a scratch, don't worry," "Scratch? You'd been hit three times now," said George.

He lost track of time. It was getting harder and harder to hold his broom straight. The sky was getting darker, as though night had decided to come early.

Once Drew nearly hit another player, without knowing whether it was a teammate or opponent; everyone was now so wet, and the rain so thick, he could hardly tell them apart...

With the first flash of lightning came the sound of Madam Hooch's whistle; Drew could just see the outline of Wood through the thick rain, gesturing him to the ground. The whole team splashed down into the mud.

"I called for time-out!" Wood roared at his team. "Come on, under here—" They huddled at the edge of the field under a large umbrella; Harry and Drew took off their glasses and wiped them hurriedly on their robes. "What's the score?"

"We're fifty points up," said Wood, "but unless we get the Snitch soon, we'll be playing into the night." "I've got no chance with these on," Harry said exasperatedly, waving his glasses. "Same," added Drew, also waving his glasses.

At that very moment, Hermione appeared at his shoulder; she was holding her cloak over her head and was, inexplicably, beaming. "I've had an idea! Give me your glasses, both of you, quick!"

They handed them to her, and as the team watched in amazement, Hermione tapped them with her wand and said, "Impervius!" "There!" she said, handing them back to Harry and Drew. "They'll repel water!"

Wood looked as though he could have kissed her. "Brilliant!" he called hoarsely after her as she disappeared into the crowd. "Okay, team, let's go for it!"

Hermione's spell had done the trick. Drew was still numb with cold, still wetter than he'd ever been in his life, but he could see.

Full of fresh hope and determination, he urged his broom through the turbulent air, scoring points, avoiding a Bludger, ducking beneath his opponents, who were streaking in the opposite direction...

There was another clap of thunder, followed immediately by forked lightning. This was getting more and more dangerous. _'C'mon Harry, catch the Snitch already,'_ Drew thought determinedly.

"Harry!" came Wood's anguished yell from the Gryffindor goal posts. "Harry, behind you!" Drew looked up and saw Harry was dashing to the ground.

Drew assumed that Harry had seen the Snitch. "Woohoo, Harry! Catch the Snitch!" cheered Drew.

Then, Drew's smile fade away; at least a hundred Dementors, their hidden faces pointing up at Harry, were standing beneath him.

It was as though freezing water were rising in his chest, cutting at his insides. And then he heard it again...Someone was screaming, screaming inside his head...a woman...

"Drew, what are you doing here!" "Mom?" muttered Drew distractly. "Get out—" Then, she screamed. "This is the end of the two Halliwells," said a familiar voice; it was The Source's.

Drew gulped nervously and he saw him. The Angel of Death was among the crowd, sitting there calmly. Drew then saw Harry freeze to a spot and he fell.

"HARRY!" shrieked Drew and he froze Harry from falling to the ground. He immediately orbed himself and his broom to Harry.

In the nick of time, Harry unfroze and Drew miraculously grabbed him by the collar with his hand.

Drew then fell from his broom and he grabbed his broom with his other hand. "Harry, hang on!" Drew tried to orb but he's too tired and cold; the Dementors were the one who made him weak.

He knew he couldn't hold onto his broom for forever but he had to. He couldn't just give up and die. He couldn't let Harry die. He couldn't let the Angel of Death take Harry away.

His arm started to hurt so much that Drew almost wanted to cry. When his energy finally drained out, he let go of his broom.

As they fall, Drew didn't let go of Harry's hand and hugged him. He slowly closed his eyes and it went black.

"Lucky the ground was so soft." "I thought they were dead for sure." "But they didn't even break their glasses."

Drew could hear the voices whispering, but they made no sense whatsoever. Drew's head was full of questions. _'Is this heaven? Am I dead? Is Harry dead? Where is Harry?'_ Drew thought desperately.

Drew's eyes snapped open. He was lying in the hospital wing. Next to him, there were Harry, who had woken up, Ron and Hermione, they were looking as though they'd just climbed out of a swimming pool.

"Drew!" said Harry then he got up from his bed and immediately hugged Drew. "Harry," said Drew dryly. "My arm,"

"Oh, sorry," "Where's the others?" asked Drew, realizing the team was not there. "Madam Pomfrey told them to leave," said Ron.

"Harry, are you ok?" he said, sitting up. "I'm fine, How are you doing?" "My arm is slightly hurt but the rest is fine," assured Drew. "Wait, how did we survived the fall? What really happened?"

Harry, Ron and Hermione bursted out explaining about how Professor Dumbledore saved them. "Okay..." said Drew. "I guess that we lost the match?"

Ron, Hermione and especially Harry nodded bitterly. "Harry, it's not your fault," said Drew. "I fainted again," "Harry, there were at least a hundred of Dementors, I can't even orb because of them," But Harry wouldn't listen, Drew sighed. "Did someone get my broom?"

Ron and Hermione looked at Drew sympathetically while Harry grabbed Drew's hand. "About that..." "What?" said Drew, looking from one to the other.

"Well...just like Harry, when you fell off, it got blown away," said Hermione hesitantly. "And?" "And it hit—it hit—it hit the Whomping Willow."

Drew went pale. The Whomping Willow was a very violent tree that stood alone in the middle of the grounds.

"And?" he said, dreading the answer. "Professor Flitwick brought it back just before you came around," said Hermione in a very small voice.

Slowly, she reached down for a bag at her feet, turned it upside down, and tipped a dozen bits of splintered wood and twig onto the bed, the only remains of Drew's faithful, finally beaten Comet.

Drew just about wanted to cry when he buried his face into Harry's chest. "Drew, you're not the only one," said Harry as he pointed his beaten Nimbus on his bed.

"Oh, Harry," said Drew as he started to cry. This is the worst day ever; Harry almost died, they had lost the match and his broom was destroyed. What could make this day even worse?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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	8. A Whole New Thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drew went to Hogsmeade for the first time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like/Kudos= Pro
> 
> Comment=Hacker
> 
> Bookmark=God
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> Ignore=Noob

Madam Pomfrey insisted on keeping Harry and Drew in the hospital wing for the rest of the weekend. They didn't argue or complain, but they wouldn't let her throw away the shattered remnants of their Nimbus Two Thousand and Comet Three Sixty.

They knew he was being stupid, knew that the Nimbus and Comet were beyond repair, but Harry and Drew couldn't help it; they felt as though they'd lost one of their best friends. Drew decided to orb his shattered broom to the attic of the Halliwell Manor.

They had a stream of visitors, all intent on cheering them up. Hagrid sent them a bunch of earwiggy flowers that looked like yellow cabbages, Ginny Weasley, blushing furiously, turned up with two get-well cards she had made herself, which sang shrilly unless Harry kept it shut under his bowl of fruit.

Dylan and Peter also visited them. Dylan gave Harry and Drew a box of chocolate frogs while Peter sent them a comic book about the story of a superhero. (Iron Man)

The Gryffindor team visited again on Sunday morning, this time accompanied by Wood, who told Harry (in a hollow, dead sort of voice) that he didn't blame him in the slightest.

Ron and Hermione left Harry's and Drew's bedside only at night. But nothing anyone said or did could make Drew feel any better, because they knew only half of what was troubling him.

He hadn't told anyone about the Angel of Death, not even Harry, Ron and Hermione, because he knew Harry would be shocked, Ron would panic and Hermione would scoff.

The fact remained, however, that it had now appeared five times, and all of them appearances had been followed by near-fatal accidents; the first and second time, he had nearly been killed by Quirrell two years ago, one in the Quidditch Pitch and one in the dungeon where Harry killed Quirrell.

The third time, he had almost been hit by the mad Bludger last year; the fourth, almost died from the Basilisk's poisonous fang; the fifth, fallen fifty feet from his broomstick.

Was the Angel of Death going to haunt Harry until he actually died? Was he going to spend the rest of his life looking over his shoulder for the beast?

And then there were the Dementors. Drew felt sick every time he thought of them. Everyone said the Dementors were horrible, but no one else heard echoes in their head of their dying mother every time they went near one.

Because Drew knew who that screaming voice belonged to now. He had heard her words, heard them over and over again during the night hours in the hospital wing while he lay awake, staring at the strips of moonlight on the ceiling.

When the Dementors approached Harry and Drew, Drew heard the last moments of his mother's life, her attempts to protect him, Drew, from The Source of All Evil, and his mother's screaming when The Source murdered her...

Drew dozed fitfully, sinking into dreams full of clammy, rotted hands and petrified pleading, jerking awake to dwell again on his mother's voice.

 _"Drew, what are you doing here!" "Get out!" "This is the end of the two Halliwells,"_ That three sentences was the only thing he could hear.

It was a relief to return to the noise and bustle of the main school on Monday, where he was forced to think about other things, even if he had to endure Draco Malfoy's taunting about Harry.

Malfoy was almost beside himself with glee at Gryffindor's defeat. He had finally taken off his bandages, and celebrated having the full use of both arms again by doing spirited imitations of Harry falling off his broom.

Malfoy spent much of their next Potions class doing Dementor imitations across the dungeon; Ron finally cracked and flung a large, slippery crocodile heart at Malfoy, which hit him in the face and caused Snape to take fifty points from Gryffindor.

"If Snape's teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts again, I'm skiving off," said Ron as they headed toward Lupin's classroom after lunch. "Check who's in there, Hermione." Hermione peered around the classroom door. "It's okay!"

Professor Lupin was back at work. It certainly looked as though he had been ill. His old robes were hanging more loosely on him and there were dark shadows beneath his eyes; nevertheless, he smiled at the class as they took their seats, and they burst at once into an explosion of complaints about Snape's behavior while Lupin had been ill.

"It's not fair, he was only filling in, why should he give us homework?" "We don't know anything about werewolves—" "—two rolls of parchment!" "Did you tell Professor Snape we haven't covered them yet?" Lupin asked, frowning slightly.

The babble broke out again. "Yes, but he said we were really behind—" "—he wouldn't listen—" "—two rolls of parchment!"

Professor Lupin smiled at the look of indignation on every face. "Don't worry. I'll speak to Professor Snape. You don't have to do the essay." "Oh no," said Hermione, looking very disappointed. "I've already finished it!" Drew sighed, smiling slightly.

They had a very enjoyable lesson. Professor Lupin had brought along a glass box containing a Hinkypunk, a little one-legged creature who looked as though he were made of wisps of smoke, rather frail and harmless looking.

"Lures travelers into bogs," said Professor Lupin as they took notes. "You notice the lantern dangling from his hand? Hops ahead—people follow the light—then—" The Hinkypunk made a horrible squelching noise against the glass.

When the bell rang, everyone gathered up their things and headed for the door, Harry and Drew among them, but— "Wait a moment, Harry, Drew," Lupin called. "I'd like a word."

Harry and Drew doubled back and watched Professor Lupin covering the Hinkypunk's box with a cloth. "I heard about the match," said Lupin, turning back to his desk and starting to pile books into his briefcase, "and I'm sorry about both of your broomsticks. Is there any chance of fixing it?" "No," said Harry. "The tree smashed them to bits."

Lupin sighed. "They planted the Whomping Willow the same year that I arrived at Hogwarts. People used to play a game, trying to get near enough to touch the trunk. In the end, a boy called Davey Gudgeon nearly lost an eye, and we were forbidden to go near it. No broomstick would have a chance."

"Did you hear about the Dementors too?" said Harry with difficulty. Lupin looked at him quickly. "Yes, I did. I don't think any of us have seen Professor Dumbledore that angry. They have been growing restless for some time...furious at his refusal to let them inside the grounds...I suppose they were the reason you both fell?"

"Yes and no," said Harry. Drew looked at Harry sympathetically, and then, he grabbed Harry's hand. "I caught him in midair,"

"Why? Why do they affect me like that? Am I just—?" "It has nothing to do with weakness," said Professor Lupin sharply, as though he had read Harry's mind. "The Dementors affect you worse than the others because there are horrors in your past that the others don't have."

A ray of wintry sunlight fell across the classroom, illuminating Lupin's gray hairs and the lines on his young face.

"Dementors are among the foulest creatures that walk this earth. They infest the darkest, filthiest places, they glory in decay and despair, they drain peace, hope, and happiness out of the air around them. Even Muggles feel their presence, though they can't see them. Get too near a Dementor and every good feeling, every happy memory will be sucked out of you. If it can, the Dementor will feed on you long enough to reduce you to something like itself—soul-less and evil. You'll be left with nothing but the worst experiences of your life. And the worst that happened to you, Harry, is enough to make anyone fall off their broom. You have nothing to feel ashamed of."

"When they get near me—" Harry stared at Lupin's desk, his throat tight. "I can hear Voldemort murdering my mum." Drew's eyes widened and fixed on Harry, then he said, "And I can hear The Source killing my mother,"

Lupin made a sudden motion with his arm as though to grip Harry's and Drew's shoulder, but thought better of it. There was a moment's silence, then—

"Why did they have to come to the match?" said Harry bitterly. "They're getting hungry," said Lupin coolly, shutting his briefcase with a snap. "Dumbledore won't let them into the school, so their supply of human prey has dried up...I don't think they could resist the large crowd around the Quidditch field. All that excitement... emotions running high...it was their idea of a feast."

"Azkaban must be suck," Drew muttered thoughtfully. Lupin nodded grimly. "The fortress is set on a tiny island, way out to sea, but they don't need walls and water to keep the prisoners in, not when they're all trapped inside their own heads, incapable of a single cheery thought. Most of them go mad within weeks." "But Sirius Black escaped from them," Harry said slowly. "He got away..."

Lupin's briefcase slipped from the desk; he had to stoop quickly to catch it. "Yes," he said, straightening up, "Black must have found a way to fight them. I wouldn't have believed it possible...Dementors are supposed to drain a wizard of his powers if he is left with them too long..." "You made that Dementor on the train back off," said Harry suddenly.

"There are—certain defenses one can use," said Lupin. "But there was only one Dementor on the train. The more there are, the more difficult it becomes to resist." "What defenses?" said Harry at once. "Can you teach me?"

"Ahem," coughed Drew, raising his eyebrows at Harry. "Don't you mean _'us'_ ?" "Drew," said Harry slowly. "Harry, I want to protect you...I need to protect you, please, let me," begged Drew.

Harry sighed. "Fine—er—can you teach us, Professor?" "I don't pretend to be an expert at fighting Dementors, Harry—quite the contrary..." "But if the Dementors come to another Quidditch match, we need to be able to fight them—"

Lupin looked into Harry's and Drew's determined face, hesitated, then said, "Well...all right. I'll try and help. But it'll have to wait until next term, I'm afraid. I have a lot to do before the holidays. I chose a very inconvenient time to fall ill."

What with the promise of anti-Dementor lessons from Lupin, the thought that he might never have to hear his mother's death again, and the fact that Ravenclaw flattened Hufflepuff in their Quidditch match at the end of November, Drew's mood took a definite upturn.

Gryffindor were not out of the running after all, although they could not afford to lose another match. Wood became repossessed of his manic energy, and worked his team as hard as ever in the chilly haze of rain that persisted into December.

Drew saw no hint of a Dementor within the grounds. Dumbledore's anger seemed to be keeping them at their stations at the entrances.

Two weeks before the end of the term, the sky lightened suddenly to a dazzling, opaline white and the muddy grounds were revealed one morning covered in glittering frost. Inside the castle, there was a buzz of Christmas in the air.

Professor Flitwick, the Charms teacher, had already decorated his classroom with shimmering lights that turned out to be real, fluttering fairies.

The students were all happily discussing their plans for the holidays. Both Ron and Hermione had decided to remain at Hogwarts, and though Ron said it was because he couldn't stand two weeks with Percy, and Hermione insisted she needed to use the library. Drew also had decided to stay at Hogwarts; he wanted to keep Harry company.

To everyone's delight except Harry's, there was to be another Hogsmeade trip on the very last weekend of the term.

"I can stay with you if you want me to," Drew told Harry. "No, you go with Hermione and Ron, I will be ok," said Harry. "Are you sure?" "Positive,"

"We can do all our Christmas shopping there!" said Hermione. "Mum and Dad would really love those Toothflossing Stringmints from Honeydukes!"

On the Saturday morning of the Hogsmeade trip, Harry bid good-bye to Drew, Ron and Hermione, who were wrapped in cloaks and scarves, then turned up the marble staircase alone, and headed back toward Gryffindor Tower.

Snow had started to fall outside and Drew was walking excitedly as they got near and near to Hogsmeade.

When they had arrived, Drew opened his mouth in awe; Hogsmeade was a picturesque little village of cottages and shops, with enchanted candles hanging in the trees. There were also people, buying their Christmas presents.

"Oh my gosh," said Drew. "This is wonderful!" Both Hermione and Ron bursted out explaining all about Hogsmeade to Drew.

There was the Shrieking Shack, Zonko's Joke shop, The Three Broomsticks and Honeydukes...

"So, where do we go first?" asked Drew distractly. "Honeydukes!" exclaimed Ron excitedly. Drew and Hermione chuckled, nodding in agreement.

They chatted merrily along the way but Drew felt something was off; Harry wasn't there. Drew was slightly sad when they arrived at Honeydukes.

It was so crowded with Hogwarts students and Drew wasn't surprised. They edged among them, looking around.

There were shelves upon shelves of the most succulent-looking sweets imaginable. Creamy chunks of nougat, shimmering pink squares of coconut ice, fat, honey-colored toffees; hundreds of different kinds of chocolate in neat rows; there was a large barrel of Every Flavor Beans, and another of Fizzing Whizbees, the levitating sherbet balls that Ron had mentioned; along yet another wall were 'Special Effects'—sweets: Droobles Best Blowing Gum (which filled a room with bluebell-colored bubbles that refused to pop for days), the strange, splintery Toothflossing Stringmints, tiny black Pepper Imps ('breathe fire for your friends!'), Ice Mice ('hear your teeth chatter and squeak!'), peppermint creams shaped like toads ('hop realistically in the stomach!'), fragile sugar-spun quills, and exploding bonbons.

Drew, Ron and Hermione squeezed themselves through a crowd of fourth years and saw a sign hanging above Hermione _ **(UNUSUAL TASTES).**_

There was a tray of blood-flavored lollipops and Drew grabbed one of them. "I wonder if Harry would eat this," "Ugh, no, Harry won't want one of those, they're for vampires, I expect," Hermione was saying.

Then, without thinking, Drew unwrapped the lollipop's wrapper and suck it. Hermione and Ron looked at Drew in shocked and disgust.

"Hm, it's not bad nor good," said Drew. "Disgusting," said Hermione, looking sick. "How about these?" said Ron, shoving a jar of Cockroach Clusters under Hermione's nose.

"Definitely not," Ron nearly dropped the jar. They turned around and saw Harry, standing behind them. "Harry!" squealed Hermione. "What are you doing here? How—how did you—?"

"Wow!" said Ron, looking very impressed, "you've learned to Apparate!" "'Course I haven't," said Harry.

He dropped his voice so that none of the sixth years could hear him and told them all about the Marauder's Map. "Do you know these people?" asked Harry. "Moony, Padfoot, Prongs, Wormtail and Miffy," Hermione and Drew shook his head.

"How come Fred and George never gave it to me!" said Ron, outraged. "I'm their brother!" "But Harry isn't going to keep it!" said Hermione, as though the idea were ludicrous. "He's going to hand it in to Professor McGonagall, aren't you, Harry?" "No, I'm not!" said Harry.

"Are you mad?" said Ron, goggling at Hermione. "Hand in something that good?" "If I hand it in, I'll have to say where I got it! Filch would know Fred and George had nicked it!" "He's got a point there, Hermione," said Drew.

"But what about Sirius Black?" Hermione hissed. "He could be using one of the passages on that map to get into the castle! The teachers have got to know!"

"He can't be getting in through a passage," said Harry quickly. "There are seven secret tunnels on the map, right? Fred and George reckon Filch already knows about four of them. And of the other three—one of them's caved in, so no one can get through it. One of them's got the Whomping Willow planted over the entrance, so you can't get out of it. And the one I just came through—well—it's really hard to see the entrance to it down in the cellar—so unless he knew it was there—" "Er—Harry," said Drew as he pointed to a notice pasted on the inside of the sweetshop door.

**_BY ORDER OF THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC_ **

**_Customers are reminded that until further notice, Dementors will be patrolling the streets of Hogsmeade every night after sundown. This measure has been put in place for the safety of Hogsmeade residents and will be lifted upon the recapture of Sirius Black. It is therefore advisable that you complete your shopping well before nightfall._ **

**_Merry Christmas!_ **

"You see that?" said Drew quietly. "I think Black is not stupid enough to try and break into Honeydukes with Dementors swarming all over the village. Anyways, Hermione, the Honeydukes owners would hear a break-in, wouldn't they? They live over the shop!" "Yes, but—but—"

Hermione seemed to be struggling to find another problem. "Look, Harry still shouldn't be coming into Hogsmeade. He hasn't got a signed form! If anyone finds out, he'll be in so much trouble! And it's not nightfall yet—what if Sirius Black turns up today? Now?"

"He'd have a job spotting Harry in this," said Ron, nodding through the mullioned windows at the thick, swirling snow. "Come on, Hermione, it's Christmas. Harry deserves a break."

Hermione bit her lip, looking extremely worried. "Are you going to report me?" Harry asked her, grinning. "Oh—of course not—but honestly, Harry—" "Lecture later," said Drew at once.

"Seen the Fizzing Whizbees, Harry?" said Ron, grabbing him and leading him over to their barrel. "And the Jelly Slugs? And the Acid Pops? Fred gave me one of those when I was seven—it burnt a hole right through my tongue. I remember Mum walloping him with her broomstick." Ron stared broodingly into the Acid Pop box. "Reckon Fred'd take a bite of Cockroach Cluster if I told him they were peanuts?" "Do you think you can prank the Demon of Pranks?" said Drew and Harry snickered.

When Drew, Ron and Hermione had paid for all their sweets, the three of them left Honeydukes for the blizzard outside. Harry shivered; unlike the other three, he didn't have his cloak so Drew put his around Harry.

They headed up the street, heads bowed against the wind, Ron and Hermione shouting through their scarves. "That's the post office—"

"Zonko's is up there—" "We could go up to the Shrieking Shack—" "Tell you what," said Ron, his teeth chattering, "shall we go for a butterbeer in the Three Broomsticks?" "Aren't we too young to drink that?" asked Drew.

Drew had seen his family excluding his cousins and brothers drank wines, champagnes and some other ' _funky_ ' stuff before.

Drew once almost drank some wine. Fortunately, his Uncle Wyatt grabbed the bottle just in time and Drew got grounded for a month.

"It just had a little bit of alcohol, that's all," assured Ron. "Yeah, Drew, don't be a chicken," teased Harry, smirking.

Drew was clearly taken aback by that but in the end, he decided to give it a try. They crossed the road, and in a few minutes were entering the tiny inn.

It was extremely crowded, noisy, warm, and smoky. A curvy sort of woman with a pretty face was serving a bunch of rowdy warlocks up at the bar. "That's Madam Rosmerta," said Ron. "I'll get the drinks, shall I?" he added, going slightly red.

Harry, Drew and Hermione made their way to the back of the room, where there was a small, vacant table between the window and a handsome Christmas tree, which stood next to the fireplace.

Ron came back five minutes later, carrying four foaming tankards of hot butterbeer. "Merry Christmas!" he said happily, raising his tankard.

Drew drank hesitatedly. It was the most delicious thing he'd ever tasted and seemed to heat every bit of him from the inside. Then, he wolfed down his butterbeer.

Harry, Ron and Hermione chuckled. "This is more than delicious," said Drew happily. "This is—this is—delicious-est,"

"Drew, that's not a word," said Hermione as he drank her butterbeer. "Well, it is now," said Drew as he emptied his tankard.

A sudden breeze ruffled his hair. The door of the Three Broomsticks had opened again. Drew looked over the rim of his tankard and panicked.

Professors McGonagall and Flitwick had just entered the pub with a flurry of snowflakes, shortly followed by Hagrid, who was deep in conversation with a portly man in a lime-green bowler hat and a pinstriped cloak—Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic.

In an instant, Drew and Ron had both placed hands on the top of Harry's head and forced him off his stool and under the table.

Drew watched the teachers' and Fudge's feet move toward the bar, pause, then turn and walk right toward him.

Somewhere above him, Hermione whispered, " _Mobiliarbus_!" The Christmas tree beside their table rose a few inches off the ground, drifted sideways, and landed with a soft thump right in front of their table, hiding them from view.

Staring through the dense lower branches, Drew saw four sets of chair legs move back from the table right beside theirs, then heard the grunts and sighs of the teachers and minister as they sat down.

Next he saw Madam Rosmerta, wearing sparkly turquoise high heels, approaching them and bringing their orders.

"A small gillywater—" "Mine," said Professor McGonagall's voice. "Four pints of mulled mead—" "Ta, Rosmerta," said Hagrid.

"A cherry syrup and soda with ice and umbrella—" "Mmm!" said Professor Flitwick, smacking his lips. "So you'll be the red currant rum, Minister."

"Thank you, Rosmerta, m'dear," said Fudge's voice. "Lovely to see you again, I must say. Have one yourself, won't you? Come and join us..." "Well, thank you very much, Minister."

Drew watched her march away and back again with a chair. His heart was pounding uncomfortably in his throat.

Why hadn't it occurred to him that this was the last weekend of term for the teachers too? And how long were they going to sit there?

"So, what brings you to this neck of the woods, Minister?" came Madam Rosmerta's voice. Drew saw Fudge's thick body twist in his chair as though he were checking for eavesdroppers.

Then he said in a quiet voice, "What else, m'dear, but Sirius Black? I daresay you heard what happened up at the school at Halloween?" "I did hear a rumor," admitted Madam Rosmerta.

"Did you tell the whole pub, Hagrid?" said Professor McGonagall exasperatedly. "Do you think Black's still in the area, Minister?" whispered Madam Rosmerta. "I'm sure of it," said Fudge shortly.

"You know that the Dementors have searched the whole village twice?" said Madam Rosmerta, a slight edge to her voice. "Scared all my customers away...It's very bad for business, Minister."

"Rosmerta, dear, I don't like them any more than you do," said Fudge uncomfortably. "Necessary precaution ...unfortunate, but there you are...I've just met some of them. They're in a fury against Dumbledore—he won't let them inside the castle grounds."

"I should think not," said Professor McGonagall sharply. "How are we supposed to teach with those horrors floating around?"

"Hear, hear!" squeaked tiny Professor Flitwick, whose feet were dangling a foot from the ground. "All the same," demurred Fudge, "they are here to protect you all from something much worse...We all know what Black's capable of..."

"Do you know, I still have trouble believing it," said Madam Rosmerta thoughtfully. "Of all the people to go over to the Dark Side, Sirius Black was the last I'd have thought...I mean, I remember him when he was a boy at Hogwarts. If you'd told me then what he was going to become, I'd have said you'd had too much mead."

"You don't know the half of it, Rosmerta," said Fudge gruffly. "The worst he did isn't widely known." "The worst?" said Madam Rosmerta, her voice alive with curiosity. "Worse than murdering all those poor people, you mean?" "I certainly do," said Fudge.

"I can't believe that. What could possibly be worse?" "You say you remember him at Hogwarts, Rosmerta," murmured Professor McGonagall. "Do you remember who his best friend was?"

"Naturally," said Madam Rosmerta, with a small laugh. "Never saw one without the other, did you? The number of times I had them in here—ooh, they used to make me laugh. Quite the double act, Sirius Black and James Potter!"

Drew heard Harry dropped his tankard with a loud clunk. Ron kicked him. "Precisely," said Professor McGonagall. "Black and Potter. Ringleaders of their little gang. Both very bright, of course—exceptionally bright, in fact—but I don't think we've ever had such a pair of troublemakers—"

"I dunno," chuckled Hagrid. "Fred and George Weasley could give 'em a run fer their money." "You'd have thought Black and Potter were brothers!" chimed in Professor Flitwick. "Inseparable!"

"Of course they were," said Fudge. "Potter trusted Black beyond all his other friends. Nothing changed when they left school. Black was best man when James married Lily. Then they named him godfather to Harry. Harry has no idea, of course. You can imagine how the idea would torment him." "Because Black turned out to be in league with You-Know-Who?" whispered Madam Rosmerta. "Worse even than that, m'dear..."

Fudge dropped his voice and proceeded in a sort of low rumble. "Not many people are aware that the Potters knew You-Know-Who was after them. Dumbledore, who was of course working tirelessly against You-Know-Who, had a number of useful spies. One of them tipped him off, and he alerted James and Lily at once. He advised them to go into hiding. Well, of course, You-Know-Who wasn't an easy person to hide from. Dumbledore told them that their best chance was the Fidelius Charm." "How does that work?" said Madam Rosmerta, breathless with interest.

Professor Flitwick cleared his throat. "An immensely complex spell," he said squeakily, "involving the magical concealment of a secret inside a single, living soul. The information is hidden inside the chosen person, or Secret-Keeper, and is henceforth impossible to find—unless, of course, the Secret-Keeper chooses to divulge it. As long as the Secret-Keeper refused to speak, You-Know-Who could search the village where Lily and James were staying for years and never find them, not even if he had his nose pressed against their sitting room window!"

"So Black was the Potters' Secret-Keeper?" whispered Madam Rosmerta. "Naturally," said Professor McGonagall. "James Potter told Dumbledore that Black would die rather than tell where they were, that Black was planning to go into hiding himself...and yet, Dumbledore remained worried. I remember him offering to be the Potters' Secret-Keeper himself."

"He suspected Black?" gasped Madam Rosmerta. "He was sure that somebody close to the Potters had been keeping You-Know-Who informed of their movements," said Professor McGonagall darkly. "Indeed, he had suspected for some time that someone on our side had turned traitor and was passing a lot of information to You-Know-Who."

"But James Potter insisted on using Black?" "He did," said Fudge heavily. "And then, barely a week after the Fidelius Charm had been performed—" "Black betrayed them?" breathed Madam Rosmerta.

"He did indeed. Black was tired of his double-agent role, he was ready to declare his support openly for You-Know-Who, and he seems to have planned this for the moment of the Potters' death. But, as we all know, You-Know-Who met his downfall in little Harry Potter. Powers gone, horribly weakened, he fled. And this left Black in a very nasty position indeed. His master had fallen at the very moment when he, Black, had shown his true colors as a traitor. He had no choice but to run for it—"

"Filthy, stinkin' turncoat!" Hagrid said, so loudly that half the bar went quiet. "Shh!" said Professor McGonagall. "I met him!" growled Hagrid. "I musta bin the last ter see him before he killed all them people! It was me what rescued Harry from Lily an' James's house after they was killed! Jus' got him outta the ruins, poor little thing, with a great slash across his forehead, an' his parents dead...an' Sirius Black turns up, on that flyin' motorbike he used ter ride. Never occurred ter me what he was doin' there. I didn' know he'd bin Lily an' James's Secret-Keeper. Thought he'd jus' heard the news o' You-Know-Who's attack an' come ter see what he could do. White an' shakin', he was. An' yeh know what I did? I COMFORTED THE MURDERIN' TRAITOR!" Hagrid roared.

"Hagrid, please!" said Professor McGonagall. "Keep your voice down!" "How was I ter know he wasn' upset abou' Lily an' James? It was You-Know-Who he cared abou'! An' then he says, 'Give Harry ter me, Hagrid, I'm his godfather, I'll look after him—' Ha! But I'd had me orders from Dumbledore, an' I told Black no, Dumbledore said Harry was ter go ter his aunt an' uncle's. Black argued, but in the end he gave in. Told me ter take his motorbike ter get Harry there. _'I won't need it anymore,'_ he says. I shoulda known there was somethin' fishy goin' on then. He loved that motorbike, what was he givin' it ter me for? Why wouldn' he need it anymore? Fact was, it was too easy ter trace. Dumbledore knew he'd bin the Potters' Secret-Keeper. Black knew he was goin' ter have ter run fer it that night, knew it was a matter o' hours before the Ministry was after him."

"But what if I'd given Harry to him, eh? I bet he'd've pitched him off the bike halfway out ter sea. His bes' friends' son! But when a wizard goes over ter the Dark Side, there's nothin' and no one that matters to em anymore..."

A long silence followed Hagrid's story. Then Madam Rosmerta said with some satisfaction, "But he didn't manage to disappear, did he? The Ministry of Magic caught up with him next day!" "Alas, if only we had," said Fudge bitterly. "It was not we who found him. It was little Peter Pettigrew—another of the Potters' friends. Maddened by grief, no doubt, and knowing that Black had been the Potters' Secret-Keeper, he went after Black himself."

"Pettigrew...that fat little boy who was always tagging around after them at Hogwarts?" said Madam Rosmerta. "Hero-worshipped Black and Potter," said Professor McGonagall. "Never quite in their league, talent-wise. I was often rather sharp with him. You can imagine how I—how I regret that now..." She sounded as though she had a sudden head cold.

"There, now, Minerva," said Fudge kindly, "Pettigrew died a hero's death. Eyewitnesses—Muggles, of course, we wiped their memories later—told us how Pettigrew cornered Black. They say he was sobbing, 'Lily and James, Sirius! How could you?' And then he went for his wand. Well, of course, Black was quicker. Blew Pettigrew to smithereens..."

Professor McGonagall blew her nose and said thickly, "Stupid boy ...foolish boy...he was always hopeless at dueling...should have left it to the Ministry..." "I tell yeh, if I'd got ter Black before little Pettigrew did, I wouldn't've messed around with wands—I'd 've ripped him limb—from—limb," Hagrid growled.

"You don't know what you're talking about, Hagrid," said Fudge sharply. "Nobody but trained Hit Wizards from the Magical Law Enforcement Squad would have stood a chance against Black once he was cornered. I was Junior Minister in the Department of Magical Catastrophes at the time, and I was one of the first on the scene after Black murdered all those people. I—I will never forget it. I still dream about it sometimes. A crater in the middle of the street, so deep it had cracked the sewer below. Bodies everywhere. Muggles screaming. And Black standing there laughing, with what was left of Pettigrew in front of him...a heap of bloodstained robes and a few—a few fragments—"

Fudge's voice stopped abruptly. There was the sound of five noses being blown. "Well, there you have it, Rosmerta," said Fudge thickly. "Black was taken away by twenty members of the Magical Law Enforcement Squad and Pettigrew received the Order of Merlin, First Class, which I think was some comfort to his poor mother. Black's been in Azkaban ever since."

Madam Rosmerta let out a long sigh. "Is it true he's mad, Minister?" "I wish I could say that he was," said Fudge slowly. "I certainly believe his master's defeat unhinged him for a while. The murder of Pettigrew and all those Muggles was the action of a cornered and desperate man—cruel...pointless. Yet I met Black on my last inspection of Azkaban. You know, most of the prisoners in there sit muttering to themselves in the dark; there's no sense in them...but I was shocked at how normal Black seemed. He spoke quite rationally to me. It was unnerving. You'd have thought he was merely bored—asked if I'd finished with my newspaper, cool as you please, said he missed doing the crossword. Yes, I was astounded at how little effect the Dementors seemed to be having on him—and he was one of the most heavily guarded in the place, you know. Dementors outside his door day and night."

"But what do you think he's broken out to do?" said Madam Rosmerta. "Good gracious, Minister, he isn't trying to rejoin You-Know-Who, is he?"

"I daresay that is his—er—eventual plan," said Fudge evasively. "But we hope to catch Black long before that. I must say, You-Know-Who alone and friendless is one thing...but give him back his most devoted servant, and I shudder to think how quickly he'll rise again..."

There was a small chink of glass on wood. Someone had set down their glass. "You know, Cornelius, if you're dining with the headmaster, we'd better head back up to the castle," said Professor McGonagall.

One by one, they got up, hems of cloaks swung into sight, and Madam Rosmerta's glittering heels disappeared behind the bar.

The door of the Three Broomsticks opened again, there was another flurry of snow, and the teachers had disappeared.

"Harry?" Drew's, Ron's and Hermione's faces appeared under the table. They were both staring at him, lost for words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like/Kudos= Pro
> 
> Comment=Hacker
> 
> Bookmark=God
> 
> Ignore=Noob


	9. New Damnsterdam

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damien attacked Drew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like/Kudos= Pro
> 
> Comment=Hacker
> 
> Bookmark=God
> 
> Ignore=Noob

"Harry," called Drew as they walked back to the castle but there's no answer. "Harry—" "Drew, now it's not the time," said Harry quietly. "But—" "I say now it's not the time!" Harry bursted out and startled Drew, Ron and Hermione.

They watched Harry nervously all through dinner, not daring to talk about what they'd overheard, because Percy was sitting close by them.

When they went upstairs to the crowded common room, it was to find Fred and George had set off half a dozen Dungbombs in a fit of end-of-term high spirits. Drew saw Harry sneaked quietly up to the dormitory.

"Do you think Harry will be ok?" asked Drew, sitting on a couch. "I'm not sure," said Ron. "If I found out that a convicted murderer is my godfather and had murdered my parents, I would be shocked too," "And don't forget angry," added Hermione.

A few quiet minutes later, Drew finally said, "I want to check on Harry," "Let me go with you," said Ron and they both walked up to the dormitory.

Ron opened the dormitory door. "Harry?" said Ron's voice uncertainly. Drew and Ron saw Harry was sleeping on his right side peacefully on his bed. "Come on, we better go," Ron whispered. "You go," said Drew. "I wanna stay with him,"

Ron nodded and closed the door behind Drew. Drew walked to Harry's bed silently and lay on it. He put his arms around Harry and he suddenly rolled over his back. Then, Harry opened his eyes.

"Harry," said Drew as he sat up. Harry also sat up and said, "I'm sorry I scolded you just now, I know you are worried about me,"

"You don't have to be sorry, you just found out that Black was the one who caused the death of your parents, you have the rights to be angry,"

Harry then kissed Drew slow and gentle. "Drew, I don't want to lose you," "Me too," said Drew as they both lay down.

Harry took off Drew's glasses, put it inside his bedside cabinet and put his arm around Drew. Slowly, they started falling asleep.

In the next morning, they had awoken to find the dormitory deserted. "Morning," called Harry as he kissed Drew's forehead. "Morning," answered Drew.

"Did you have a good night sleep, honey?" asked Harry. "Actually, yeah and don't _honey_ me, it's weird," "Fine," said Harry as he rolled his eyes.

They got dressed, and gone down the spiral staircase to a common room that was completely empty except for Ron, who was eating a Peppermint Toad and massaging his stomach, and Hermione, who had spread her homework over three tables.

"Where is everyone?" said Harry. "Gone! It's the first day of the holidays, remember?" said Ron, watching Harry and Drew closely. "It's nearly lunchtime; I was going to come and wake you two up in a minute."

Harry and Drew slumped into a chair next to the fire. Snow was still falling outside the windows. Crookshanks was spread out in front of the fire like a large, ginger rug.

"You really don't look well, you know," Hermione said, peering anxiously into Harry's face. "I'm fine," said Harry.

"Harry, listen," said Hermione, exchanging a look with Ron, "you must be really upset about what we heard yesterday. But the thing is, you mustn't go doing anything stupid." "Like what?" said Harry. "Like trying to go after Black," said Ron sharply.

He didn't say anything. "Oh, come on," said Drew. "You think Harry would do something foolish like that?" "But you won't, will you, Harry?" said Hermione. "Because Black's not worth dying for," said Ron.

Harry looked at them. "D'you know what I see and hear every time a Dementor gets too near me?" Ron and Hermione shook their heads, looking apprehensive while Drew just stayed quiet.

"I can hear my mum screaming and pleading with Voldemort. And if you'd heard your mum screaming like that, just about to be killed, you wouldn't forget it in a hurry. And if you found out someone who was supposed to be a friend of hers betrayed her and sent Voldemort after her—"

"There's nothing you can do!" said Hermione, looking stricken. "The Dementors will catch Black and he'll go back to Azkaban and—and serve him right!" "You heard what Fudge said. Black isn't affected by Azkaban like normal people are. It's not a punishment for him like it is for the others."

"So what are you saying?" said Ron, looking very tense. "You want to—to kill Black or something?" "Don't be silly," said Hermione in a panicky voice. "Harry doesn't want to kill anyone, do you, Harry?"

Again, Harry didn't answer. "Just stop it, can't you!" said Drew, feeling slightly angry at his two friends' behaviour. "Harry is going through some hard times so can you stop bothering him?" "Drew, we were just making sure that Harry won't be doing something dangerous—"

"Malfoy knows," Harry said abruptly. "Remember what he said to me in Potions? ' _If it was me, I'd hunt him down myself...I'd want revenge_.'"

"You're going to take Malfoy's advice instead of ours?" said Ron furiously. "Listen...you know what Pettigrew's mother got back after Black had finished with him? Dad told me—the Order of Merlin, First Class, and Pettigrew's finger in a box. That was the biggest bit of him they could find. Black's a madman, Harry, and he's dangerous—"

"Malfoy's dad must have told him," said Harry, ignoring Ron. "He was right in Voldemort's inner circle—" "Say You-Know-Who, will you?" interjected Ron angrily.

"—so obviously, the Malfoys knew Black was working for Voldemort—" "—and Malfoy'd love to see you blown into about a million pieces, like Pettigrew! Get a grip. Malfoy's just hoping you'll get yourself killed before he has to play you at Quidditch."

"Harry, please," said Hermione, her eyes now shining with tears, "Please be sensible. Black did a terrible, terrible thing, but d-don't put yourself in danger, it's what Black wants...Oh, Harry, you'd be playing right into Black's hands if you went looking for him. Your mum and dad wouldn't want you to get hurt, would they? They'd never want you to go looking for Black!" "I'll never know what they'd have wanted, because thanks to Black, I've never spoken to them," said Harry shortly.

There was a silence in which Crookshanks stretched luxuriously flexing his claws. Ron's pocket quivered. "Look," said Ron, obviously casting around for a change of subject, "it's the holidays! It's nearly Christmas! Let's—let's go down and see Hagrid. We haven't visited him for ages!"

"No!" said Hermione quickly. "Harry isn't supposed to leave the castle, Ron—" "Yeah, let's go," said Harry, sitting up, "and I can ask him how come he never mentioned Black when he told me all about my parents!"

Further discussion of Sirius Black plainly wasn't what Ron had had in mind. "Or we could have a game of chess," he said hastily, "or Gobstones. Percy left a set—" "No, let's visit Hagrid," said Harry firmly.

So they got their cloaks from their dormitories and set off through the portrait hole ("Stand and fight, you yellow-bellied mongrels—" Drew froze him once again.), down through the empty castle and out through the oak front doors.

They made their way slowly down the lawn, making a shallow trench in the glittering, powdery snow, their socks and the hems of their cloaks soaked and freezing.

The Forbidden Forest looked as though it had been enchanted, each tree smattered with silver, and Hagrid's cabin looked like an iced cake.

Ron knocked, but there was no answer. "He's not out, is he?" said Hermione, who was shivering under her cloak. Ron had his ear to the door. "There's a weird noise," he said. "Listen—is that Fang?"

Harry, Drew and Hermione put their ears to the door too. From inside the cabin came a series of low, throbbing moans.

"Think we'd better go and get someone?" said Ron nervously. "Hagrid!" called Harry, thumping the door. "Hagrid, are you in there?"

There was a sound of heavy footsteps, then the door creaked open. Hagrid stood there with his eyes red and swollen, tears splashing down the front of his leather vest. "You've heard?" he bellowed, and he flung himself onto Harry's neck.

Hagrid being at least twice the size of a normal man, this was no laughing matter. Harry, about to collapse under Hagrid's weight, was rescued by Drew and Ron, who each seized Hagrid under an arm and heaved him back into the cabin.

Hagrid allowed himself to be steered into a chair and slumped over the table, sobbing uncontrollably, his face glazed with tears that dripped down into his tangled beard.

"Hagrid, what is it?" said Hermione, aghast. Drew spotted an official-looking letter lying open on the table. "What's this, Hagrid?" asked Harry. Hagrid's sobs redoubled, but he shoved the letter toward Harry, who picked it up and read aloud:

_Dear Mr. Hagrid,_

_Further to our inquiry into the attack by a Hippogriff on a student in your class, we have accepted the assurances of Professor Dumbledore that you bear no responsibility for the regrettable incident._

"Well, that's okay then, Hagrid!" said Ron, clapping Hagrid on the shoulder. But Hagrid continued to sob, and waved one of his gigantic hands, inviting Harry to read on.

_However, we must register our concern about the Hippogriff in question. We have decided to uphold the official complaint of Mr. Lucius Malfoy, and this matter will therefore be taken to the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures. The hearing will take place on April 20th, and we ask you to present yourself and your Hippogriff at the Committee's offices in London on that date. In the meantime, the Hippogriff should be kept tethered and isolated._

_Yours in fellowship..._

There followed a list of the school governors. Then, something popped into Drew's mind. _'Three deaths will occur this year,'_ Drew remembered The Angel of Death saying that and Drew realized Buckbeak was one of them.

"Oh," said Ron. "But you said Buckbeak isn't a bad Hippogriff, Hagrid. I bet he'll get off." "Yeh don' know them gargoyles at the Committee fer the Disposal o' Dangerous Creatures!" choked Hagrid, wiping his eyes on his sleeve. "They've got it in fer interestin' creatures—"

"I can't believe that little demon!" cursed Drew. Hagrid, Harry, Ron and Hermione knew that Drew was talking about Malfoy. "You saved him!" "There's nothing yeh can do," sobbed Hagrid.

A sudden sound from the corner of Hagrid's cabin made Harry, Drew, Ron, and Hermione whip around. Buckbeak the Hippogriff was lying in the corner, chomping on something that was oozing blood all over the floor. "I couldn' leave him tied up out there in the snow!" choked Hagrid. "All on his own! At Christmas."

Harry, Drew, Ron, and Hermione looked at one another. They had never seen eye to eye with Hagrid about what he called ' _interesting creatures'_ and other people called _'terrifying monsters'._

On the other hand, there didn't seem to be any particular harm in Buckbeak. In fact, by Hagrid's usual standards, he was positively cute.

"You'll have to put up a good strong defense, Hagrid," said Hermione, sitting down and laying a hand on Hagrid's massive forearm. "I'm sure you can prove Buckbeak is safe."

"Won' make no diff'rence!" sobbed Hagrid. "Them Disposal devils, they're all in Lucius Malfoy's pocket! Scared o' him! Ad if I lose the case, Buckbeak—"

Hagrid drew his finger swiftly across his throat, then gave a great wail and lurched forward, his face in his arms.

"What about Dumbledore, Hagrid?" said Harry. "He's done more'n enough fer me already," groaned Hagrid. "Got enough on his plate what with keepin' them Dementors outta the castle, an' Sirius Black lurkin' around."

Drew, Ron and Hermione looked quickly at Harry, as though expecting him to start berating Hagrid for not telling him the truth about Black.

But Harry stayed silent, and Drew was glad; he couldn't bear it if Harry were scolding at a miserable and scared Hagrid.

"Listen, Hagrid," Harry said, "you can't give up. Hermione's right, You just need a good defense. You can call us as witnesses—"

"I'm sure I've read about a case of Hippogriff-baiting," said Hermione thoughtfully, "where the Hippogriff got off. I'll look it up for you, Hagrid, and see exactly what happened." "And I can be Buckbeak's personal lawyer,"

Hagrid howled still more loudly. Harry, Drew and Hermione looked at Ron to help them. "Er—shall I make a cup of tea?" said Ron.

Harry stared at him and Drew gave him an 'are-you-serious' stare. "It's what my mum does whenever someone's upset," Ron muttered, shrugging.

At last, after many more assurances of help, with a steaming mug of tea in front of him, Hagrid blew his nose on a handkerchief the size of a tablecloth and said, "Yer right. I can' afford to go ter pieces. Gotta pull meself together..."

Fang the boarhound came timidly out from under the table and laid his head on Hagrid's knee. "I've not bin meself lately," said Hagrid, stroking Fang with one hand and mopping his face with the other. "Worried abou' Buckbeak, an' no one likin' me classes—"

"We do like them!" lied Hermione at once. "Yeah, they're great!" said Ron, crossing his fingers under the table. "Er—how are the flobberworms?" "Dead," said Hagrid gloomily. "Too much lettuce." "Oh no!" said Ron, his lip twitching.

"An' them Dementors make me feel ruddy terrible an' all," said Hagrid, with a sudden shudder. "Gotta walk past 'em ev'ry time I want a drink in the Three Broomsticks. It's like bein' back in Azkaban—"

He fell silent, gulping his tea. Harry, Drew, Ron, and Hermione watched him breathlessly. They had never heard Hagrid talk about his brief spell in Azkaban before. After a pause, Hermione said timidly, "Is it awful in there, Hagrid?"

"Yeh've no idea," said Hagrid quietly. "Never bin anywhere like it. Thought I was goin' mad. Kep' goin' over horrible stuff in me mind... the day I got expelled from Hogwarts...day me dad died... day I had ter let Norbert go..."

His eyes filled with tears. Norbert was the baby dragon Hagrid had once won in a game of cards. "Yeh can' really remember who yeh are after a while. An' yeh can' really see the point o' livin' at all. I used ter hope I'd jus' die in me sleep. When they let me out, it was like bein' born again, ev'rythin' came floodin' back, it was the bes' feelin' in the world. Mind, the Dementors weren't keen on lettin' me go." "But you were innocent!" said Hermione.

Hagrid snorted. "Think that matters to them? They don' care. Long as they've got a couple o' hundred humans stuck there with 'em, so they can leech all the happiness out of 'em, they don' give a damn who's guilty an' who's not."

Hagrid went quiet for a moment, staring into his tea. Then he said quietly, "Thought o' jus' letting Buckbeak go...tryin' ter make him fly away...but how d'yeh explain ter a Hippogriff it's gotta go inter hidin'? An'—an' I'm scared o' breakin' the law..." He looked up at them, tears leaking down his face again. "I don' ever want ter go back ter Azkaban."

The trip to Hagrid's, though far from fun, had nevertheless had the effect Drew, Ron and Hermione had hoped.

Though Harry had by no means forgotten about Black, he couldn't brood constantly on revenge if he wanted to help Hagrid win his case against the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures.

Harry, Drew, Ron, and Hermione went to the library the next day and returned to the empty common room laden with books that might help prepare a defense for Buckbeak.

The four of them sat in front of the roaring fire, slowly turning the pages of dusty volumes about famous cases of marauding beasts, speaking occasionally when they ran across something relevant.

"Here's something...there was a case in 1722...but the Hippogriff was convicted—ugh, look what they did to it, that's disgusting—" "This might help, look—a Manticore savaged someone in 1296, and they let the Manticore off—oh—no, that was only because everyone was too scared to go near it..."

Meanwhile, in the rest of the castle, the usual magnificent Christmas decorations had been put up, despite the fact that hardly any of the students remained to enjoy them.

Thick streamers of holly and mistletoe were strung along the corridors, mysterious lights shone from inside every suit of armor, and the Great Hall was filled with its usual twelve Christmas trees, glittering with golden stars.

A powerful and delicious smell of cooking pervaded the corridors, and by Christmas Eve, it had grown so strong that even Scabbers poked his nose out of the shelter of Ron's pocket to sniff hopefully at the air.

On Christmas morning, Drew was woken by Harry and Ron throwing pillows at him. "Merry Birthday, Drew!" exclaimed Harry.

Drew reached for his glasses and put them on, squinting through the semi-darkness to the foot of his bed, where a small heap of parcels had appeared. Ron was already ripping the paper off his own presents.

"Another sweater from Mum...maroon again...see if you've got one." Harry and Drew had. Mrs. Weasley had sent Drew a blue sweater with the Charmed Ones' holy triquetra knitted on the front.

Meanwhile, Mrs. Weasley sent Harry a scarlet sweater with the Gryffindor lion also knitted on the front. Drew also got a Birthday & Christmas cake, a long red scarf from Grandma Piper, a book called ' _Kingdom of Fantasy'_ from his Uncle Wyatt ("Yes! My collection is done!" said Drew cheerfully.) and a box of a big cherry pie from Peter.

But his attention wasn't on the presents, he saw a long, thin package lying underneath. Harry also got the same package.

"What's that?" said Ron, looking over, a freshly unwrapped pair of maroon socks in his hand. "Dunno..." said Harry.

Harry and Drew ripped the parcel open and gasped as a magnificent, gleaming broomstick rolled out onto his bedspread.

Ron dropped his socks and jumped off his bed for a closer look. "I don't believe it," he said hoarsely.

It was a Firebolt, no, two Firebolts, identical to the dream broom Harry and Drew had gone to see every day in Diagon Alley. Its handle glittered as they picked it up.

They could feel it vibrating and let go; it hung in midair, unsupported, at exactly the right height for him to mount it.

Their eyes moved from the golden registration number at the top of the handle, right down to the perfectly smooth, streamlined birch twigs that made up the tail.

"Oh holy mother of God," said Drew distractedly. "Who sent it to you?" said Ron in a hushed voice. "Look and see if there's a card," said Harry.

Ron ripped apart the Firebolts' wrappings. "Nothing! Blimey, who'd spend that much on you?" "Well," said Harry, feeling stunned, "I'm betting it wasn't the Dursleys." "It could be from Aunt Mel, maybe from my Dad," said Drew unsurely.

"I bet it was Dumbledore," said Ron, now walking around and around the Firebolt, taking in every glorious inch. "He sent you the Invisibility Cloak anonymously..."

"That was my dad's, though," said Harry. "Dumbledore was just passing it on to me. He wouldn't spend hundreds of Galleons on me. He can't go giving students stuff like this—"

"That's why he wouldn't say it was from him!" said Ron. "In case some git like Malfoy said it was favoritism. Hey, Harry, Drew—Ron gave a great whoop of laughter—Malfoy! Wait 'til he sees you on this! He'll be sick as a pig! This is an international standard broom, this is!"

"I can't believe this," Harry muttered, running a hand along the Firebolt, while Ron sank onto Drew's bed, laughing his head off at the thought of Malfoy.

"Who the heck bought this thing then?" said Drew amusedly. "I know," said Ron, controlling himself, "I know who it could've been—Lupin!"

"What?" said Harry, now starting to laugh himself. "Lupin? Listen, if he had this much gold, he'd be able to buy himself some new robes."

"Yeah, but he likes you both," said Ron. "And he was away when your Nimbus and Comet got smashed, and he might've heard about it and decided to visit Diagon Alley and get this for you—" "What d'you mean, he was away?" said Harry. "He was ill when I was playing in that match."

"Well, he wasn't in the hospital wing," said Ron. "I was there, cleaning out the bedpans on that detention from Snape, remember?" Harry frowned at Ron. "I can't see Lupin affording something like this." "What're you three laughing about?"

Hermione had just come in, wearing her dressing gown and carrying Crookshanks, who was looking very grumpy, with a string of tinsel tied around his neck.

"Don't bring him in here!" said Ron, hurriedly snatching Scabbers from the depths of his bed and stowing him in his pajama pocket. But Hermione wasn't listening.

She dropped Crookshanks onto Seamus's empty bed and stared, open-mouthed, at the Firebolts. "Oh, Harry! Drew! Who sent you that?" "No idea," said Harry. "There wasn't a card or anything with it."

To their great surprise, Hermione did not appear either excited or intrigued by the news. On the contrary, her face fell, and she bit her lip.

"What's the matter with you?" said Ron. "I don't know," said Hermione slowly, "but it's a bit odd, isn't it? I mean, this is supposed to be quite a good broom, isn't it?"

Ron sighed exasperatedly. "It's the best broom there is, Hermione," he said. "So it must've been really expensive..." "Probably cost more than all the Slytherins' brooms put together," said Ron happily.

"Well...who'd send Harry and Drew something as expensive as that, and not even tell him they'd sent it?" said Hermione.

"Who cares?" said Ron impatiently. "Listen, Harry, can I have a go on it? Can I?" "I don't think anyone should ride that broom just yet!" said Hermione shrilly.

Harry, Drew and Ron looked at her. "What d'you think Harry's going to do with it—sweep the floor?" said Ron. But before Hermione could answer, Crookshanks sprang from Seamus's bed, right at Ron's chest.

"GET—HIM—OUT—OF—HERE!" Ron bellowed as Crookshanks's claws ripped his pajamas and Scabbers attempted a wild escape over his shoulder.

Ron seized Scabbers by the tail and aimed a misjudged kick at Crookshanks that hit the trunk at the end of Harry's bed, knocking it over and causing Ron to hop up and down, howling with pain.

Crookshanks's fur suddenly stood on end. A shrill, tinny, whistling was filling the room. The Pocket Sneakoscope had become dislodged from Harry's Uncle Vernon's old socks and was whirling and gleaming on the floor.

"I forgot about that!" Harry said, bending down and picking up the Sneakoscope. "I never wear those socks if I can help it..."

The Sneakoscope whirled and whistled in his palm. Crookshanks was hissing and spitting at it.

"You'd better take that cat out of here, Hermione," said Ron furiously, sitting on Harry's bed nursing his toe. "Can't you shut that thing up?" he added to Harry as Hermione strode out of the room, Crookshanks's yellow eyes still fixed maliciously on Ron.

Harry stuffed the Sneakoscope back inside the socks and threw it back into his trunk. All that could be heard now were Ron's stifled moans of pain and rage.

Scabbers was huddled in Ron's hands. It had been a while since Harry and Drew had seen him out of Ron's pocket, and he was unpleasantly surprised to see that Scabbers, once so fat, was now very skinny; patches of fur seemed to have fallen out too.

"He's not looking too good, is he?" Harry said. "It's stress!" said Ron. "He'd be fine if that big stupid furball left him alone!"

But Drew, remembering what the woman at the Magical Menagerie had said about rats living only three years, couldn't help feeling that unless Scabbers had powers he had never revealed, he was reaching the end of his life.

And despite Ron's frequent complaints that Scabbers was both boring and useless, he was sure Ron would be very miserable if Scabbers died.

Christmas spirit was definitely thin on the ground in the Gryffindor common room that morning. Hermione had shut Crookshanks in her dormitory, but was furious with Ron for trying to kick him; Ron was still fuming about Crookshanks's fresh attempt to eat Scabbers.

Harry and Drew gave up trying to make them talk to each other and devoted themselves to examining the Firebolt, which they had brought down to the common room with them.

For some reason this seemed to annoy Hermione as well; she didn't say anything, but she kept looking darkly at the broom as though it too had been criticizing her cat.

At lunchtime they went down to the Great Hall, to find that the House tables had been moved against the walls again, and that a single table, set for twelve, stood in the middle of the room.

Professors Dumbledore, McGonagall, Snape, Sprout, Grams, and Flitwick were there, along with Filch, the caretaker, who had taken off his usual brown coat and was wearing a very old and rather moldy-looking tailcoat.

There were only one other student, Drew's younger brother, Damien. Drew was pretty shocked to see him there.

"Merry Christmas!" said Dumbledore as Harry, Drew, Ron, and Hermione approached the table. "As there are so few of us, it seemed foolish to use the House tables...sit down, sit down!"

Harry, Drew, Ron, and Hermione sat down side by side at the end of the table. "Crackers!" said Dumbledore enthusiastically, offering the end of a large silver noisemaker to Snape, who took it reluctantly and tugged. With a bang like a gunshot, the cracker flew apart to reveal a large, pointed witches hat topped with a stuffed vulture.

Drew, remembering the Boggart, coughed behind his hand to hide his laughter. Harry, caught Ron's eye and they both grinned; Snape's mouth thinned and he pushed the hat toward Dumbledore, who swapped it for his wizard's hat at once. "Dig in!" he advised the table, beaming around.

As Drew was helping himself to steaks, the doors of the Great Hall opened again. It was Professor Trelawney, gliding toward them as though on wheels. She had put on a green sequined dress in honor of the occasion, making her look more than ever like a glittering, oversized dragonfly.

"Sybil, this is a pleasant surprise!" said Dumbledore, standing up. "I have been crystal gazing, Headmaster," said Professor Trelawney in her mistiest, most faraway voice, "and to my astonishment, I saw myself abandoning my solitary luncheon and coming to join you. Who am I to refuse the promptings of fate? I at once hastened from my tower, and I do beg you to forgive my lateness..." "Certainly, certainly," said Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling. "Let me draw you up a chair—"

And he did indeed draw a chair in midair with his wand, which revolved for a few seconds before falling with a thud between Professors Snape and McGonagall.

Professor Trelawney, however, did not sit down; her enormous eyes had been roving around the table, and she suddenly uttered a kind of soft scream.

"I dare not, Headmaster! If I join the table, we shall be thirteen! Nothing could be more unlucky! Never forget that when thirteen dine together, the first to rise will be the first to die!"

"If that so, I will volunteer myself," said Grams calmly. "I am a ghost, I can't die again, can I?" Professor Trelawney looked unconvinced. "We'll risk it, Sibyll," said Professor McGonagall impatiently. "Do sit down, the turkey's getting stone cold."

Professor Trelawney hesitated, then lowered herself into the empty chair, eyes shut and mouth clenched tight, as though expecting a thunderbolt to hit the table.

Professor McGonagall poked a large spoon into the nearest tureen. "Tripe, Sibyll?" Professor Trelawney ignored her.

Eyes open again, she looked around once more and said, "But where is dear Professor Lupin?" "I'm afraid the poor fellow is ill again," said Dumbledore, indicating that everybody should start serving themselves. "Most unfortunate that it should happen on Christmas Day."

"But surely you already knew that, Sibyll?" said Professor McGonagall, her eyebrows raised.

Professor Trelawney gave Professor McGonagall a very cold look. "Certainly I knew, Minerva," she said quietly. "But one does not parade the fact that one is All-Knowing. I frequently act as though I am not possessed of the Inner Eye, so as not to make others nervous." "That explains a great deal," said Professor McGonagall tartly.

Professor Trelawney's voice suddenly became a good deal less misty. "If you must know, Minerva, I have seen that poor Professor Lupin will not be with us for very long. He seems aware, himself, that his time is short. He positively fled when I offered to crystal gaze for him—" "Imagine that," said Professor McGonagall dryly.

"I doubt," said Dumbledore, in a cheerful but slightly raised voice, which put an end to Professor McGonagall and Professor Trelawney's conversation, "that Professor Lupin is in any immediate danger. Severus, you've made the potion for him again?" "Yes, Headmaster," said Snape.

"Good," said Dumbledore. "Then he should be up and about in no time...Damien, have you had any of the chipolatas? They're excellent." Damien nodded and took the platter of sausages.

Meanwhile with Drew, he was staring disappointedly at his brother. "Drew, no powers while eating," said Grams. Drew then realized he had made the table shaking. "Sorry,"

Professor Trelawney behaved almost normally until the very end of Christmas dinner, two hours later. Full to bursting with Christmas dinner and still wearing their cracker hats, Harry, Drew and Ron got up first from the table and she shrieked loudly.

"My dears! Which of you left his seat first? Which?" "Dunno," said Ron, looking uneasily at Harry. "I doubt it will make much difference," said Professor McGonagall coldly, "unless a mad axe-man is waiting outside the doors to slaughter the first into the Entrance Hall."

Even Ron laughed. Drew chuckled unconvincingly. Professor Trelawney looked highly affronted. "Coming?" Harry said to Hermione. "No," Hermione muttered. "I want a quick word with Professor McGonagall."

"Probably trying to see if she can take any more classes," yawned Ron as they make their way into the Entrance Hall, which was completely devoid of mad axe-men.

When they reached the portrait hole they found Sir Cadogan enjoying a Christmas part with a couple of monks, several previous headmasters of Hogwarts and his fat pony. He pushed up his visor toasted them with a flagon of mead.

Merry—hic—Christmas! Password?" "Scurvy cur," said Ron. "And the same to you, sir! roared Sir Cadogan, as the painting swung forward to admit them.

They were just about to go in when Damien went after them. "Drew, wait," Damien panted. "What?" "I want to talk to you," Drew looked at his friends and they nodded encouragely.

Then, they set off to somewhere. "Damien, where are we going?" asked Drew. "Just follow me," They continued walking until Damien stopped in front of Moaning Myrtle's toilet.

Damien opened the door and they went inside. Drew heard Myrtle was crying in one of the stalls like always. "Who's there?" asked Myrtle in a girly, hollow voice. "It's us, Myrtle," said Damien.

At these words, Myrtle came out and saw Drew. "Oh, Drew Halliwell, nice to meet you again," Drew wanted to say hi to Myrtle when Damien interrupted, "If you don't mind, leave us alone for a moment, Myrtle," said Damien and Myrtle flew outside.

"So what did you want to talk about?" "About just now," said Damien coldly. "You looked like you are...angry with me," Drew tried to look confused.

"What are you talking about—" "Admit it," said Damien firmly. "You hate me because I am in Slytherin, don't you?" Drew opened his mouth but no words came out.

Damien shook his head slightly as he gave a cold chuckle. Damien walked towards the door. "No, Damien, wait!" said Drew as he grabbed Damien's arm.

Then, Damien waved his another arm and Drew was thrown back to a wall. Drew looked at his brother in shock. "If you **_ARE_** my brother, prove it," said Damien darkly and he left the toilet.

Drew headed back to the common room with a hurting arm and a broken heart. He couldn't believe his brother would attack him.

When he finally arrived, he saw Professor McGonagall was coming out from the common room. Keyword: Firebolt. She was carrying Drew's and Harry's superb Firebolts.

Drew tried to look painless and it worked. He nodded to Professor McGonagall casually and went inside the common room.

Drew saw Harry stood staring after Hermione, with a tin of High-Finish Polish clutched in his hands. Ron rounded on Hermione.

"What did you go running to McGonagall for?" Hermione threw her book aside. She was still pink in the face, but stood up and faced Ron defiantly.

"Because I thought—and Professor McGonagall agrees with me—that that broom was probably sent to Harry by Sirius Black!"

"What happened?" asked Drew and they turned around. They saw Drew was clutching his arm painfully. "Drew, what happened!" exclaimed Harry. "I asked you first," "Ok, but you might want to sit down," said Ron. 

Then, Drew sat down with Harry next to him and Ron told Drew about Hermione's little ' _betrayal_ '. "You what—Ouch!" shouted Drew as his arm started hurting even more. "I was doing something right," said Hermione strictly. "What if it was from Sirius Black?"

"Never mind about that," said Harry, looking at Drew. "Drew, what happened?" "Damien attacked me," said Drew gloomily. "He what!" "It's fine, I deserved it," said Drew. "I'm a bad brother,"

"No, you're not," assured Ron. "He's a Slytherin," "That's the reason why he hates me," said Drew. "I hate him first because he's in Slytherin and not in Gryffindor,"

Drew bursted into tears as Harry and Ron hugged him and Hermione watched them sympathetically.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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	10. Patronus Go Brrrr

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drew and Harry had an anti-Dementors lesson with Professor Lupin. They got their Firebolts back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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After the small fight between Drew and Damien, they started avoiding each other. But if they did accidentally bumped into each other, Damien wouldn't even look at his brother which made Drew frowned.

Meanwhile with Harry, Drew and Ron, their friendship with Hermione were getting more and more tense. Harry and Drew knew that Hermione had meant well, but that didn't stop them from being angry with her.

They had been the owner of the best broom in the world for a few short hours, and now, because of her interference, they didn't know whether they would ever see it again.

They were positive that there was nothing wrong with the Firebolts now, but what sort of state would it be in once it had been subjected to all sorts of anti-jinx tests?

Ron was furious with Hermione too. As far as he was concerned, the stripping-down of a brand-new Firebolts was nothing less than criminal damage.

Hermione, who remained convinced that she had acted for the best, started avoiding the common room. Harry, Drew and Ron supposed she had taken refuge in the library and didn't try to persuade her to come back.

All in all, they were glad when the rest of the school returned shortly after New Year, and Gryffindor Tower became crowded and noisy again. Wood sought Harry and Drew out on the night before term started.

"Had a good Christmas?" he said, and then, without waiting for an answer, he sat down, lowered his voice, and said, "I've been, doing some thinking over Christmas, Harry. After last match, you know. If the Dementors come to the next one...I mean...we can't afford you to—well—"

Wood broke off, looking awkward. "Drew and I are working on it," said Harry quickly. "Professor Lupin said he'd train us to ward off the Dementors. We should be starting this week. He said he'd have time after Christmas."

"Ah," said Wood, his expression clearing. "Well, in that case—I really didn't want to lose you as Seeker, Harry, and you as a Chaser too, Drew. And have you two ordered a new broom yet?"

"No," said Harry and Drew. "What! You'd better get a move on, you know—you both can't ride that Shooting Star against Ravenclaw!" "They each got a Firebolt for Christmas," said Ron. "Two Firebolts? No! Seriously? A—a real Firebolt?"

"Don't get your hopes up, Oliver," said Drew gloomily. "Our brooms had been...confiscated." And he explained all about how the Firebolt was now being checked for jinxes.

"Jinxed? How could it be jinxed?" "Sirius Black," Harry said wearily. "He's supposed to be after me and somehow Drew too. So McGonagall reckons he might have sent it."

Waving aside the information that a famous murderer was after his Seeker and Chaser, Wood said, "But Black couldn't have bought two Firebolts! He's on the run! The whole country's on the lookout for him! How could he just walk into _Quality Quidditch Supplies_ and buy a broomstick?" "I know," said Harry, "but McGonagall still wants to strip it down—"

Wood went pale. "I'll go and talk to her, Harry," he promised. "I'll make her see reason...A Firebolt...a real Firebolt, on our team...She wants Gryffindor to win as much as we do...I'll make her see sense. A Firebolt..."

Classes started again the next day. The last thing anyone felt like doing was spending two hours on the grounds on a raw January morning, but Hagrid had provided a bonfire full of salamanders for their enjoyment, and they spent an unusually good lesson collecting dry wood and leaves to keep the fire blazing while the flame-loving lizards scampered up and down the crumbling, white-hot logs.

The first Divination lesson of the new term was much less fun (but not for Drew); Professor Trelawney was now teaching them palmistry, and she lost no time in informing Harry that he had the shortest life line she had ever seen.

It was Defense Against the Dark Arts that Harry and Drew were keen to get to; after their conversation with Wood, they wanted to get started on his anti-Dementor lessons as soon as possible.

"Ah yes," said Lupin, when Harry and Drew reminded him of his promise at the end of class. "Let me see...how about eight o'clock on Thursday evening? The History of Magic classroom should be large enough...I'll have to think carefully about how we're going to do this...We can't bring a real Dementor into the castle to practice on..."

"Still looks ill, doesn't he?" said Ron as they walked down the corridor, heading to dinner. "What d'you reckon's the matter with him?"

There was a loud and impatient "tuh" from behind them. It was Hermione, who had been sitting at the feet of a suit of armor, repacking her bag, which was so full of books it wouldn't close.

"And what are you tutting at us for?" said Ron irritably. "Nothing," said Hermione in a lofty voice, heaving her bag back over her shoulder.

"Yes, you were," said Ron. "I said I wonder what's wrong with Lupin, and you—" "Well, isn't it obvious?" said Hermione, with a look of maddening superiority.

Drew suddenly became very nervous. "If you don't want to tell us, don't," snapped Ron. "Fine," said Hermione haughtily, and she marched off.

"She doesn't know," said Ron, staring resentfully after Hermione. "She's just trying to get us to talk to her again." "I doubt that," muttered Drew, relieved.

Hermione was an exceedingly bright witch and he bet Hermione was going to tell them that Professor Lupin was a werewolf.

At eight o'clock on Thursday evening, Harry and Drew left Gryffindor Tower, holding hands, for the History of Magic classroom.

It was dark and empty when they arrived, but they lit the lamps with their wands and had waited only five minutes when Professor Lupin turned up, carrying a large packing case, which he heaved onto Professor Binn's desk.

"What's that?" said Harry. "Another Boggart," said Lupin, stripping off his cloak. "I've been combing the castle ever since Tuesday, and very luckily, I found this one lurking inside Mr. Filch's filing cabinet. It's the nearest we'll get to a real Dementor. The Boggart will turn into a Dementor when he sees you, so we'll be able to practice on him. I can store him in my office when we're not using him; there's a cupboard under my desk he'll like." "Okay," said Harry.

"But Professor," said Drew. "My Boggart wasn't a Dementor," "And that's why you have to believe that Dementor is your Boggart,"

Drew was dumbfounded. "You have to change your Boggart into a Dementor," "Ok..." said Drew uncertainly.

"So..." Professor Lupin had taken out his own wand, and indicated that Harry and Drew should do the same. "The spell I am going to try and teach you both is highly advanced magic, Harry, Drew—well beyond Ordinary Wizarding Level. It is called the Patronus Charm." "How does it work?" said Harry nervously.

"Well, when it works correctly, It conjures up a Patronus," said Lupin, "which is a kind of anti-Dementor—a guardian that acts as a shield between you and the Dementor."

Drew merely nodded. Professor Lupin continued, "The Patronus is a kind of positive force, a projection of the very things that the Dementor feeds upon—hope, happiness, the desire to survive—but it cannot feel despair, as real humans can, so the Dementors can't hurt it. But I must warn you, Harry, Drew, that the charm might be too advanced for you. Many qualified wizards have difficulty with it." "What does a Patronus look like?" said Drew curiously.

"Each one is unique to the wizard who conjures it." "And how do you conjure it?" said Harry. "With an incantation, which will work only if you are concentrating, with all your might, on a single, very happy memory."

Drew casted his mind about for a happy memory. But which one did he have to choose? He had so many happy memories. But his search for a happy memory was interrupted.

He suddenly thought of the Angel of Death, his mother, The Source and...Damien. He shook his head, trying to forget the horrible thoughts.

Eventually, Drew thought of something happy: his 4th Birthday/Christmas celebration.

"I'm ready," said Drew as Harry said, "Right," "The incantation is this—" Lupin cleared his throat. " _Expecto patronum!" "Expecto patronum,"_ Harry and Drew repeated. "Ok, now Harry, you go first," "Good luck," said Drew and Harry looked at his boyfriend, smiling.

" _Expecto patronum_." Harry muttered under his breath. "Concentrating hard on your happy memory?" "Oh yeah—" said Harry. "Expecto patrono—no, patronum—sorry—expecto patronum, expecto patronum"

Something whooshed suddenly out of the end of his wand; it looked like a wisp of silvery gas. "Did you see that?" said Harry excitedly. "Something happened!"

Drew couldn't help it and smile widely. "Very good," said Lupin, smiling. "Right, then—ready to try it on a Dementor?"

"Yes," Harry said, gripping his wand very tightly, and moving into the middle of the deserted classroom. Lupin grasped the lid of the packing case and pulled.

A Dementor rose slowly from the box, its hooded face turned toward Harry, one glistening, scabbed hand gripping its cloak. The lamps around the classroom flickered and went out.

The Dementor stepped from the box and started to sweep silently toward Harry, drawing a deep, rattling breath. " _Expecto patronum_!" Harry yelled. " _Expecto patronum! Expecto_ —"

Then, Harry started shaking madly and his wand fell to the ground; he was fainting. "Harry!" shrieked Drew as he caught Harry and put Harry's head on his lap.

" _Riddikulus_!" shouted Lupin, pointing his wand at the  
Boggart-Dementor and it turned into a misty cloud. The classroom lamps were alight again. "Uncle Remus!" said Drew, panicking. "Help him!"

"Harry!" said Lupin loudly, trying to wake Harry up. Slowly, Harry opened his eyes. "Sorry," he muttered, sitting up with Drew next to him. "Are you all right?" said Lupin. "Yes..." Harry pulled himself up on one of the desks and leaned against it.

"Here—" Lupin handed him a Chocolate Frog. "Eat this before we try again. I didn't expect you to do it your first time; in fact, I would have been astounded if you had."

"It's getting worse," Harry muttered, biting off the Frog's head. "I could hear her louder that time—and him—Voldemort—"

Lupin looked paler than usual. "Harry, if you don't want to continue, I will more than understand—" "I do!" said Harry fiercely, stuffing the rest of the Chocolate Frog into his mouth. "I've got to! What if the Dementors turn up at our match against Ravenclaw? I can't afford to fall off again. If we lose this game we've lost the Quidditch Cup!"

After Harry had calmed down, Lupin said, "All right then...You might want to select another memory, a happy memory, I mean, to concentrate on...That one doesn't seem to have been strong enough..."

Harry gripped his wand tightly again and took up his position in the middle of the classroom. "Ready?" said Lupin, gripping the box lid. "Ready," said Harry

'You can do this, Harry!" Drew thought determinedly. "Go!" said Lupin, pulling off the lid. The room went icily cold and dark once more. The Dementor glided forward, drawing its breath; one rotting hand was extending toward Harry— " _Expecto patronum_!" Harry yelled. " _Expecto patronum! Expecto Pat_ —"

Harry's eyes went over his head and he fainted. Drew caught him again as Lupin dealt with the Boggart. "Harry! Harry...wake up.." Lupin was tapping Harry hard on the face.

Harry opened his eyes and this time, he looked bewildered. "I heard my dad," Harry mumbled. "That's the first time I've ever heard him tried to take on Voldemort himself, to give my mum time to run for it..."

Drew saw tears were coursing down Harry's cheeks. Drew walked toward him to comfort him when Harry bent his face as low as possible, wiping the tears off on his robes, pretending to do up his shoelace, so that Lupin and Drew wouldn't see. ' _You're too late, Harry,'_

"You heard James?" said Lupin in a strange voice. "Yeah..." Face dry, Harry looked up. "Why—you didn't know my dad, did you?"

"I—I did, as a matter of fact," said Lupin. "We were friends at Hogwarts. Listen, Harry—perhaps we should leave it here for tonight. This charm is ridiculously advanced...I shouldn't have suggested putting you through this..."

"No!" said Harry. He got up again. "I'll have one more go! I'm not thinking of happy enough things—" "Harry," said Drew firmly. "Rest," And Harry listened to him immediately; he retreated and sat on a chair.

"Ok, Drew, it's your turn," said Lupin, trying to stifle his laughter. "Before you used the spell on the Boggart, try to cast the spell first," Drew then closed his eyes, and he's slowly been sucked into a premonition.

It was Christmas and Drew's birthday, the Halliwells were having fun, the children were running around, chasing each other and Drew was among them.

The elders were having a conversation near the fire while Grandma Piper was cooking (and baking a surprise cake for Drew) in the kitchen. Some of the adults were helping Piper and some were chatting.

Since it’s Christmas, the entire house was given a very cool and wintry vibe. The Christmas tree in the living room was dazzling. There were white, sparkly orbs floating around the ceiling.

When it's time for dinner, they sat around the dinner table. It reminded Drew of how blessed and lucky he truly was.

Drew smiled sweetly and opened his eyes. _"Expecto Patronum,"_ said Drew joyfully as he pointed out his wand.

Then, a mass of silvery vapour and smoke coming out of the end of it. It disappeared as soon as it showed up.

"Excellent!" praised Lupin. "That is called an incorporeal Patronus," Harry looked at Drew in awe. "It will shield you from the Dementors. However, it is limited, it cannot provide the defensive power of the corporeal Patronus, which has the form and substance of an animal." continued Lupin. Drew smiled proudly. "Ok, now, you try on the Boggart,"

Drew took on his position and Lupin held the lid. "Ready?" said Lupin. "I was born ready," said Drew and Lupin pulled of the lid. Crack! The Source appeared.

Drew closed his eyes and thought: What could make the Dementors even scarier than The Source? Its hood? Its cold and creepy breathe? Drew opened his eyes and The Source was still there.

The Source conjured a fireball and it hit Drew. He thought it would be painful but it only hurted a little. 'If I want a Dementor to show up, I must be like Harry," Drew thought to himself.

Drew closed his eyes once again and imagine. There were thousands of Dementors floating around and he saw Harry, standing below those horrors.

The Dementors were sweeping toward Harry and he fainted. The Dementors then, somehow, started killing Harry slowly.

Drew clenched his fist and opened his eyes. Crack! The Source had turned into a creepy Dementor.

Drew gulped nervously and he instinctively thought of his happy moment when he heard the voices again. _"Drew, what are you doing here!" "Get out!"_

 _"Expecto Patronum!"_ shouted Drew and nothing but a tiny flick came out of the tip of the wand. The Dementor was dashing toward Drew when he shouted, " _Riddikulus_!" and the Dementor turned into dusts.

Lupin looked at Drew half-worried and half-disappointed. "Well, no one's perfect, right?" said Lupin, patting his nephew's back softly.

Harry got up and walked towards Drew. "Don't worry, Drew. I'm sure you can do it next time,"

"Do you want to do it again, Harry?" asked Lupin. "Surue," Drew stood next to Harry, watching him while Harry was preparing himself. "Ready?" said Lupin, who looked as though he were doing this against his better judgment. "Concentrating hard? All right—go!"

He pulled off the lid of the case for the third time, and the Dementor rose out of it; the room fell cold and dark— " _EXPECTO PATRONUM_!" Harry bellowed. " _EXPECTO PATRONUM! EXPECTO PATRONUM_!"

At these screams, the Dementor halted...and then a huge, silver shadow came bursting out of the end of Harry's wand, to hover between him and the Dementor. " _Riddikulus_!" roared Lupin, springing forward.

There was a loud crack, and Harry's cloudy Patronus vanished along with the Dementor; he sank into a chair, feeling as exhausted as if he'd just run a mile, and his legs were shaking. Drew sat next to Harry, putting his head on Harry's shoulder.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Professor Lupin forcing the Boggart back into the packing case with his wand; it had turned into a silvery orb again.

"Excellent!" Lupin said, striding over to where Harry sat. "Excellent, Harry! That was definitely a start!" "Can we have another go? Just one more go?"

"No," said Drew strongly. "That's enough for today." "He's right," said Lupin. "You've had enough for one night. Here—"

He handed Harry and Drew two large bars of Honeydukes' best chocolate. "Eat the lot, or Madam Pomfrey will be after my blood. Same time next week?"

"Okay," said Harry and Drew together. They took a bite of the chocolate and watched Lupin extinguishing the lamps that had rekindled with the disappearance of the Dementor.

"Professor Lupin?" Harry said. "If you knew my dad, you must've known Sirius Black as well." Lupin turned very quickly.

"What gives you that idea?" he said sharply. "Nothing—I mean, I just knew they were friends at Hogwarts too..."

Lupin's face relaxed. "Yes, I knew him," he said shortly. "Or I thought I did. You'd better be off, Harry, Drew, it's getting late."

Harry and Drew left the classroom, walking along the corridor and around a corner, then took a detour behind a suit of armor and sank down on its plinth to finish their chocolates.

He felt drained and strangely empty, even though he was so full of chocolate. He was enjoying his delicious chocolate when he saw Harry's worried face.

Drew had an idea; he touched Harry's shoulder and Harry turned to Drew. Without thinking, Drew kissed Harry charmingly. "Feel better?" asked Drew, smirking. "Yes," And they started kissing wildly.

A few minutes of snogging later, they stood up, crammed the last bit of chocolate into their mouth, and headed back to Gryffindor Tower.

Ravenclaw played Slytherin a week after the start of term. Slytherin won, though narrowly. According to Wood, this was good news for Gryffindor, who would take second place if they beat Ravenclaw too.

He therefore increased the number of team practices to five a week. This meant that with Lupin's anti-Dementor classes, which in themselves were more draining than six Quidditch practices, Harry and Drew had just one night a week to do all his homework.

Even so, they were not showing the strain nearly as much as Hermione, whose immense workload finally seemed to be getting to her.

Every night, without fail, Hermione was to be seen in a corner of the common room, several tables spread with books, Arithmancy charts, rune dictionaries, diagrams of Muggles lifting heavy objects, and file upon file of extensive notes; she barely spoke to anybody and snapped when she was interrupted.

"How's she doing it?" Ron muttered to Harry and Drew one evening as Harry and Drew sat finishing a nasty essay on _Undetectable Poisons_ for Snape. Harry looked up. Hermione was barely visible behind a tottering pile of books.

"Doing what?" said Harry curiously. "Getting to all her classes!" Ron said. "I heard her talking to Professor Vector, that Arithmancy witch, this morning. They were going on about yesterday's lesson, but Hermione can't've been there, because she was with us in Care of Magical Creatures! And Ernie McMillan told me she's never missed a Muggle Studies class, but half of them are at the same time as Divination, and she's never missed one of them either!"

Drew didn't have time to fathom the mystery of Hermione's impossible schedule at the moment; he really needed to get on with Snape's essay. Two seconds later, however, Harry and Drew were interrupted again, this time by Wood.

"Bad news, Harry, Drew. I've just been to see Professor McGonagall about the Firebolts. She—er—got a bit shirty with me. Told me I'd got my priorities wrong. Seemed to think I cared more about winning the Cup than I do about you staying alive. Just because I told her I didn't care if it threw you two off, as long as you can do your job as a Seeker and Chaser."

Wood shook his head in disbelief. "Honestly, the way she was yelling at me...you'd think I'd said something terrible. Then I asked her how much longer she was going to keep it..."

He screwed up his face and imitated Professor McGonagall's severe voice. _"As long as necessary, Wood"_...I reckon it's time you both each ordered a new broom, Harry, Drew. There's an order form at the back of _Which Broomstick_...you could get a Nimbus Two Thousand and One, like Malfoy's got."

Drew was about to agree when Harry said, "I'm not buying anything Malfoy thinks is good," "Same for me," said Drew quickly.

January faded imperceptibly into February, with no change in the bitterly cold weather. The match against Ravenclaw was drawing nearer and nearer, but Harry and Drew still hadn't ordered a new broom.

Harry was now asking Professor McGonagall for news of the Firebolt after every Transfiguration lesson, Drew and Ron standing hopefully at his shoulder, Hermione rushing past with her face averted.

"No, Potter, you and Halliwell can't have it back yet," Professor McGonagall told him the twelfth time this happened, before he'd even opened his mouth. "We've checked for most of the usual curses, but Professor Flitwick believes the broom might be carrying a Hurling Hex. I shall tell you once we've finished checking it. Now, please stop badgering me."

Harry's and Drew's anti-Dementor lessons were going smooth... At least for Drew, it were. Several sessions on, Drew was able to produce an incorporeal Patronus everytime the Boggart-Dementor approached him but Harry was the opposite.

Harry can now produce indistinct, silvery shadow but his Patronus was too feeble to drive the Dementor away. All it did was hover, like a semitransparent cloud, draining Harry of energy as he fought to keep it there.

Drew stared at Harry apphrensively. "You're expecting too much of yourself," said Professor Lupin, sternly in their fourth week of practice. "For a thirteen-year-old wizard, even an indistinct Patronus is a huge achievement. You aren't passing out anymore, are you?"

"I thought a Patronus would—charge the Dementors down or something," said Harry dispiritedly. "Make them disappear—"

"The true Patronus does do that," said Lupin. "But you've achieved a great deal in a very short space of time. If the Dementors put in an appearance at your next Quidditch match, you two will be able to keep them at bay long enough to get back to the ground."

"You said it's harder if there are loads of them," said Harry. "I have complete confidence in you both," said Lupin, smiling. "Here—you've earned a drink. Something from the Three Broomsticks. Maybe Drew had tasted it before, but I bet you didn't tried it before—"

He pulled two bottles out of his briefcase. "Butterbeer!" said Harry and Drew, without thinking. "Yes! My favourite drink ever!" exclaimed Drew as he took the bottle politely and drank it roughly. "Yeah, I like that stuff!" said Harry.

Lupin raised an eyebrow and Drew almost choked up. "Oh—Ron, Drew and Hermione brought me some back from Hogsmeade," Harry lied quickly.

"I see," said Lupin, though he still looked slightly suspicious. "Well—let's drink to a Gryffindor victory against Ravenclaw! Not that I'm supposed to take sides, as a teacher..." he added hastily.

They drank the butterbeer in silence, until Harry voiced something. "What's under a Dementor's hood?" Professor Lupin lowered his bottle thoughtfully.

"Hmmm...well, the only people who really know are in no condition to tell us. You see, the Dementor lowers its hood only to use its last and worst weapon."

"What's that?" said Drew. "They call it the Dementor's Kiss," said Lupin, with a slightly twisted smile. "It's what Dementors do to those they wish to destroy utterly. I suppose there must be some kind of mouth under there, because they clamp their jaws upon the mouth of the victim and—and suck out his soul."

Harry and Drew accidentally spat out a bit of butterbeer. "What—they kill—" "Oh no," said Lupin. "Much worse than that. You can exist without your soul, you know, as long as your brain and heart are still working. But you'll have no sense of self anymore, no memory, no...anything. There's no chance at all of recovery. You'll just exist. As an empty shell. And your soul is gone forever...lost."

Lupin drank a little more butterbeer, then said, "It's the fate that awaits Sirius Black. It was in the Daily Prophet this morning. The Ministry have given the Dementors permission to perform it if they find him."

Drew sat stunned for a moment at the idea of someone having their soul sucked out through their mouth. He couldn't even imagine it.

"He deserves it," Harry said suddenly. "You think so?" said Lupin lightly. "Do you really think anyone deserves that?" "Yes," said Harry defiantly. "For...for some things..."

Harry hesitated. Drew then put his hand on Harry's. He smiled at Drew and they finished their butterbeer, thanked Lupin, and left the History of Magic classroom.

Drew half wished that Harry hadn't asked what was under a Dementor's hood, the answer had been so horrible, and he was so lost in unpleasant thoughts of what it would feel like to have your soul sucked out of you that they walked headlong into Professor McGonagall halfway up the stairs.

"Do watch where you're going, Halliwell! Potter!" "Sorry, Professor—" "I've just been looking for both of you in the Gryffindor common room, Well, here it is, we've done everything we could think of, and there doesn't seem to be anything wrong with it at all—you've got a very good friend somewhere, Potter...Halliwell..."

Harry's jaw dropped and Drew smiled widely as ever. She was holding out their Firebolt, and they looked as magnificent as ever.

"We can have it back?" Harry said weakly. "Seriously?" "Seriously," said Professor McGonagall, and she was actually smiling. "I daresay you'll need to get the feel of it before Saturday's match, won't you? Halliwell, do your best and Potter—do try and win, won't you? Or we'll be out of the running for the eighth year in a row, as Professor Snape was kind enough to remind me only last night..."

Speechless, Harry and Drew carried the Firebolt back upstairs toward Gryffindor Tower. As he turned a corner, they saw Ron dashing toward him, grinning from ear to ear.

"She gave it to you? Excellent! Listen, can I still have a go on it, Harry? Tomorrow?" "Why do you always ask Harry?" asked Drew. "Why can't you ask me?" "Oooh, jealous, I see," teased Harry.

"Er—" Ron was searching for a reason. "Because Harry's broom is cleaner?" said Ron, shrugging. "So can you lend me your broom?" Drew rolled his eyes. 

"Yeah...anything..." said Harry, his heart lighter than it had been in a month. "You know what—we should make up with Hermione...she was only trying to help..." "Yeah, all right," said Ron. "She's in the common room now working—for a change."

They turned into the corridor to Gryffindor Tower and saw Neville Longbottom, pleading with Sir Cadogan, who seemed to be refusing him entrance.

"I wrote them down!" Neville was saying tearfully. "But I must've dropped them somewhere!" "A likely tale!" roared Sir Cadogan.

Then, spotting Harry, Drew and Ron: "Good even, my fine young men! Come clap this loon in irons. He is trying to force entry to the chambers within!"

"Oh, shut up," said Ron as he and Harry drew level with Neville. "I've lost the passwords!" Neville told them miserably. "I made him tell me what passwords he was going to use this week, because he keeps changing them, and now I don't know what I've done with them!"

"Oddsbodkins," said Harry to Sir Cadogan, who looked extremely disappointed and reluctantly swung forward to let them into the common room.

There was a sudden, excited murmur as every head turned and the next moment, Harry and Drew were surrounded by people exclaiming over their Firebolts.

"Where'd you get it, Harry?" "Will you let me have a go?" "Have you ridden it yet, Drew?" "Ravenclaw'll have no chance, they're all on Cleansweep Sevens!" "Can I just hold it, Harry?"

After ten minutes or so, during which the Firebolts were passed around and admired from every angle, the crowd dispersed and Harry, Drew and Ron had a clear view of Hermione, the only person who hadn't rushed over to them, bent over her work and carefully avoiding their eyes.

Harry, Drew and Ron approached her table and at last, she looked up. "We got it back," said Harry, grinning at her and holding up the Firebolt. "Let's hope that we will beat Ravenclaw," said Drew.

"See, Hermione? There wasn't anything wrong with it!" said Ron. "Well—there might have been!" said Hermione. "I mean, at least you know now that it's safe!"

"Yeah, I suppose so," said Harry. "We'd better put it upstairs." "I'll take them!" said Ron eagerly. "I've got to give Scabbers his rat tonic."

He took the Firebolts and, holding it as if it were made of glass, carried it away up the boys' staircase. "Can we sit down, then?" Harry asked Hermione. "I suppose so," said Hermione, moving a great stack of parchment off a chair.

Drew looked around at the cluttered table, at the long Arithmancy essay on which the ink was still glistening, at the even longer Muggle Studies essay ( _'Explain Why Muggles Need Electricity'_ ) and at the rune translation Hermione was now poring over.

"Oh my God," said Drew shockingly. "Hermione, I know you are smart but I never expect you to be a witch version of Albert Einstein," "How are you getting through all this stuff?" Harry asked her.

"Oh, well—you know—working hard," said Hermione. Close-up, Harry saw that she looked almost as tired as Lupin.

"Why don't you just drop a couple of subjects?" Harry asked, watching her lifting books as she searched for her rune dictionary.

"I couldn't do that!" said Hermione, looking scandalized. "Arithmancy looks terrible," said Harry, picking up a very complicated-looking number chart. "And Muggle Studies looked very easy so I think you can drop this,"

"Oh no, they're wonderful!" said Hermione earnestly. "They're my favorite subjects! It's—"

But exactly what was wonderful about Arithmancy and Muggle Studies, Harry never found out. At that precise moment, a strangled yell echoed down the boys' staircase.

The whole common room fell silent, staring, petrified, at the entrance. Then came hurried footsteps, growing louder and louder—and then Ron came leaping into view, dragging with him a bedsheet.

"LOOK!" he bellowed, striding over to Hermione's table. "LOOK!" he yelled, shaking the sheets in her face. "Ron, what—" "SCABBERS! LOOK! SCABBERS!"

Hermione was leaning away from Ron, looking utterly bewildered. Drew looked down at the sheet Ron was holding. There was something red on it. Something that looked horribly like—

"BLOOD!" Ron yelled into the stunned silence. "HE'S GONE! AND YOU KNOW WHAT WAS ON THE FLOOR?" "N—no," said Hermione in a trembling voice.

Ron threw something down onto Hermione's rune translation. Hermione, Drew and Harry leaned forward. Lying on top of the weird, spiky shapes were several long, ginger cat hairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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	11. Gryffindor vs Ravenclaw

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sirius Black 'broke into' the Gryffindor common room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like/Kudos= Pro
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> Comment=Hacker
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It looked like the end of Ron and Hermione's friendship. Each was so angry with the other that Drew couldn't see how they'd ever make up.

Ron was enraged that Hermione had never taken Crookshanks's attempts to eat Scabbers seriously, hadn't bothered to keep a close enough watch on him, and was still trying to pretend that Crookshanks was innocent by suggesting that Ron look for Scabbers under all the boys' beds.

Hermione, meanwhile, maintained fiercely that Ron had no proof that Crookshanks had eaten Scabbers, that the ginger hairs might have been there since Christmas, and that Ron had been prejudiced against her cat ever since Crookshanks had landed on Ron's head in the Magical Menagerie.

Personally, Harry and Drew were sure that Crookshanks had eaten Scabbers, and when they tried to point out to Hermione that the evidence all pointed that way, she lost her temper with them too.

"Okay, side with Ron, I knew you would!" she said shrilly. "First the Firebolts, now Scabbers, everything's my fault, isn't it! Just leave me alone, both of you, I've got a lot of work to do!"

Ron had taken the loss of his rat very hard indeed. "Come on, Ron, you were always saying how boring Scabbers was," said Fred bracingly. "And he's been off-color for ages, he was wasting away. It was probably better for him to snuff it quickly—one swallow—he probably didn't feel a thing."

"Fred!" said Ginny indignantly. "All he did was eat and sleep, Ron, you said it yourself," said George.

"He bit Goyle for us once!" Ron said miserably. "Remember, Harry? Drew?" "Yeah, that's true," said Harry as Drew nodded in agreement.

"His finest hour," said Fred, unable to keep a straight face. "Let the scar on Goyle's finger stand as a lasting tribute to his memory. Oh, come on, Ron, get yourself down to Hogsmeade and buy a new rat, what's the point of moaning?"

In a last-ditch attempt to cheer Ron up, Harry and Drew persuaded him to come along to the Gryffindor team's final practice before the Ravenclaw match, so that he could have a ride on Harry's Firebolt after they'd finished.

This did seem to take Ron's mind off Scabbers for a moment ("Great! Can I try and shoot a few goals on it?") so they set off for the Quidditch field together.

Madam Hooch, who was still overseeing Gryffindor practices to keep an eye on Harry, was just as impressed with the Firebolts as everyone else had been. She took Drew's in her hands before takeoff and gave them the benefit of her professional opinion.

"Look at the balance on it! If the Nimbus series has a fault, it's a slight list to the tail end—you often find they develop a drag after a few years. They've updated the handle too, a bit slimmer than the Cleansweeps, reminds me of the old Silver Arrows—a pity they've stopped making them. I learned to fly on one, and a very fine old broom it was too..."

She continued in this vein for some time, until Wood said, "Er—Madam Hooch? Is it okay if Drew has the Firebolt back? We need to practice..." "Oh—right—here you are, then, Halliwell," said Madam Hooch. "I'll sit over here with Weasley..."

She and Ron left the field to sit in the stadium, and the Gryffindor team gathered around Wood for his final instructions for tomorrow's match.

"Harry, I've just found out who Ravenclaw is playing as Seeker. It's Cho Chang. She's a fourth year, and she's pretty good...I really hoped she wouldn't be fit, she's had some problems with injuries..."

Wood scowled his displeasure that Cho Chang had made a full recovery, then said, "On the other hand, she rides a Comet Two Sixty, which is an old version of Comet Three Sixty. It is going to look like a joke next to the Firebolts." He gave Harry's and Drew's broom a look of fervent admiration, then said, "Okay, everyone, let's go—"

And at long last, Drew mounted his Firebolt, and kicked off from the ground and Harry did the same.

It was better than he'd ever dreamed. The Firebolt turned with the lightest touch; it seemed to obey his thoughts rather than his grip; it sped across the field at such speed that the stadium turned into a green-and-gray blur; Harry turned it so sharply that Angelina Johnson screamed while Drew circling the field swiftly as ever.

"Harry, I'm letting the Snitch out!" Wood called and he released the Snitch. Drew soared towards the Quaffle and grabbed it without any difficulties. He sprinted toward the goal and scored.

Meanwhile with Harry, he turned and raced a Bludger toward the goal posts; he outstripped it easily, saw the Snitch dart out from behind Wood, and within ten seconds had caught it tightly in his hand.

The team cheered madly. Harry let the Snitch go again, gave it a minute's head start, then tore after it, weaving in and out of the others; he spotted it lurking near Katie's knee, looped her easily, and caught it again.

It was the best practice ever; the team, inspired by the presence of the Firebolts in their midst, performed their best moves faultlessly, and by the time they hit the ground again, Wood didn't have a single criticism to make, which, as George Weasley pointed out, was a first.

"I can't see what's going to stop us tomorrow!" said Wood. "Not unless—Harry, you have sorted out your Dementor problem, haven't you?"

"Yeah," said Harry. Drew felt sorry for Harry. He wished that Harry's Patronus will be strong enough to fend off the Dementors if they showed up.

"The Dementors won't turn up again, Oliver. Dumbledore'd go ballistic," said Fred confidently. "Well, let's hope not," said Wood. "Anyway—good work, everyone. Let's get back to the tower...turn in early..."

"I'm staying out for a bit; Ron wants a go on the Firebolt," Harry told Wood. "I will stay with them" said Drew, and while the rest of the team headed off to the locker rooms, Harry and Drew strode over to Ron, who vaulted the barrier to the stands and came to meet him. Madam Hooch had fallen asleep in her seat.

"Here you go," said Harry, handing Ron the Firebolt. Ron, an expression of ecstasy on his face, mounted the broom and zoomed off into the gathering darkness while Harry and Drew were holding hands as they walked around the edge of the field, watching him.

Night had fallen before Madam Hooch awoke with a start, told Harry, Drew and Ron off for not waking her, and insisted that they go back to the castle.

Harry and Drew shouldered the Firebolts and they and Ron walked out of the shadowy stadium, discussing the Firebolts' superbly smooth action, its phenomenal acceleration, and its pinpoint turning.

They were halfway toward the castle when Harry stopped dead, his heart banging against his ribs. "Harry?" called Drew. "What's the matter?" said Ron. Harry pointed. As Drew conjured a fireball, Ron pulled out his wand and muttered, "Lumos!"

A beam of light fell across the grass, hit the bottom of a tree, and illuminated its branches; there, crouching among the budding leaves, was Crookshanks.

"Get out of here!" Ron roared, and he stooped down and seized a stone lying on the grass, but before he could do anything else, Drew elbowed him which made him dropped the rock and Crookshanks had vanished with one swish of his long ginger tail.

"What's that for?" Ron told Drew furiously. "Maybe he had murdered your rat but he is still a soulful animal." "A soulful animal? He's a monster!" berated Ron. "Technically, monster is an animal too," Harry mumbled and Ron glared at him.

They set off for the castle once more. Drew stared at Harry worriedly until they had reached the well lit entrance hall.

Harry and Drew went down to breakfast the next morning with the rest of the boys in his dormitory, all of whom seemed to think the Firebolts deserved a sort of guard of honor.

As Harry and Drew entered the Great Hall, heads turned in the direction of the Firebolts, and there was a good deal of excited muttering.

Drew saw, with enormous satisfaction, that the Slytherin team were all looking thunderstruck. "Did you see his face?" said Ron gleefully, looking back at Malfoy. "He can't believe it! This is brilliant!"

Wood, too, was basking in the reflected glory of the Firebolts. "Put them here, Drew, Harry," he said, laying the brooms in the middle of the table and carefully turning them so that its name faced upward.

People from the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables were soon coming over to look. Peter was looking at the Firebolts in awe while Cedric Diggory came over to congratulate Harry and Drew on having acquired such a superb replacement for their Nimbus and Comet, and Percy's Ravenclaw girlfriend, Penelope Clearwater, asked if she could actually hold the Firebolts. 

"Now, now, Penny, no sabotage!" said Percy heartily as she examined the Firebolt closely. "Penelope and I have got a bet on," he told the team. "Ten Galleons on the outcome of the match!"

Penelope put the Firebolt down again, thanked Harry, and went back to her table. "Harry, Drew, make sure you win," said Percy, in an urgent whisper. "I haven't got ten Galleons. Yes, I'm coming, Penny!" And he bustled off to join her in a piece of toast.

"Sure you can manage that broom, Potter?" said a cold, drawling voice. Draco Malfoy had arrived for a closer look, Crabbe and Goyle right behind him.

"Yeah, reckon so," said Harry casually. "Got plenty of special features, hasn't it?" said Malfoy, eyes glittering maliciously. "Shame it doesn't come with a parachute—in case you get too near a Dementor."

Crabbe and Goyle sniggered and anger poured through Drew. "Pity you can't attach an extra arm to yours, Malfoy," said Harry. "Then it could catch the Snitch for you."

Drew snickered as the Gryffindor team laughed loudly. Malfoy's pale eyes narrowed, and turned to Drew then turned back to Harry. "At least you got your boyfriend as your bodyguard, Potter," sneered Malfoy and he stalked away.

They watched him rejoin the rest of the Slytherin team, who put their heads together, no doubt asking Malfoy whether Harry's and Drew's broom really were the Firebolts.

At a quarter to eleven, the Gryffindor team set off for the locker rooms. The weather couldn't have been more different from their match against Hufflepuff.

It was a clear, cool day with a very light breeze; there would be no visibility problems this time, and Drew, though nervous and scared that Harry would faint again, was starting to feel the excitement only a Quidditch match could bring.

They could hear the rest of the school moving into the stadium beyond. Drew took off his black school robes, removed his wand from his pocket, and stuck it inside the T-shirt he was going to wear under his Quidditch robes. He merely hoped he wouldn't need it.

"You know what we've got to do," said Wood as they prepared to leave the locker rooms. "If we lose this match, we're out of the running. just—just fly like you did in practice yesterday, and we'll be okay!"

They walked out onto the field to tumultuous applause. The Ravenclaw team, dressed in blue, were already standing in the middle of the field.

Their Seeker, Cho Chang, was the only girl on their team. She was shorter than Drew by about a head, and he saw Harry's face turned red as his eyes fell on her. Drew was pretty annoyed by that.

But Drew couldn't blame him; Cho was a good-looking girl. "Wood, Davies, shake hands," Madam Hooch said briskly, and Wood shook hands with the Ravenclaw Captain.

"Mount your brooms...on my whistle...three—two—one—" Drew kicked off into the air and the Firebolt zoomed faster than any other broom; he snatched the Quaffle and scoring ten points flawlessly.

The Gryffindor end of the field went wild. Drew, meanwhile, was listening all the while to the commentary, which was being provided by the Weasley twins' friend Lee Jordan.

"They're off, and the big excitement this match is the Firebolt that Harry Potter and Drew Halliwell flying for Gryffindor. According to _Which Broomstick_ , the Firebolt's going to be the broom of choice for the national teams at this year's World Championship—"

"Jordan, would you mind telling us what's going on in the match?" interrupted Professor McGonagall's voice. "Right you are, Professor—just giving a bit of background information—the Firebolt, incidentally, has a built-in auto-brake and—"

"Jordan!" "Okay, okay, Gryffindor in possession, Katie Bell of Gryffindor, heading for goal..."

Katie then passed the Quaffle to Drew and he scored another ten points. "Show her your acceleration, Harry!" Drew heard Fred yelled at Harry as he whooshed past in pursuit of a Bludger that was aiming for Drew.

"Oh, that was a close on," "Thanks, Fred," said Drew as he grabbed the Quaffle, passed it to Angelina Johnson and scored another ten points.

Then, Drew saw something; something shiny and tiny; it's the Snitch. Drew signally waved his arm to Harry and he understood the signal right away; the Snitch was close to the ground, flitting near one of the barriers.

Harry dived; Cho saw what he was doing and tore after him—Harry was speeding up, he was ten feet away— Then a Bludger, hit by one of the Ravenclaw Beaters, came pelting out of nowhere; Harry veered off course, avoiding it by an inch, and in those few, crucial seconds, the Snitch had vanished.

There was a great "Ooooooh" of disappointment from the Gryffindor supporters, but much applause for their Beater from the Ravenclaw end.

George Weasley vented his feelings by hitting the second Bludger directly at the offending Beater, who was forced to roll right over in midair to avoid it.

"Gryffindor leads by eighty points to zero, and look at that Firebolt go! Potter's really putting it through its paces now, see it turn—Chang's Comet is just no match for it, the Firebolts' precision—balance is really noticeable in these long—" "JORDAN! ARE YOU BEING PAID TO ADVERTISE FIREBOLTS? GET ON WITH THE COMMENTARY!"

Ravenclaw was pulling back; they had now scored three goals, which put Gryffindor only fifty points ahead—if Cho got the Snitch before Harry, Ravenclaw would win.

As Drew won another ten points, Harry dropped lower, narrowly avoiding a Ravenclaw Chaser. Drew then saw—a glint of gold, a flutter of tiny wings—the Snitch was circling the Gryffindor goal post...

Drew turned to Harry to give him another signal but he didn't need to; Harry accelerated, eyes fixed on the speck of gold ahead—but just then, Cho appeared out of thin air, blocking him— "HARRY, THIS IS NO TIME TO BE A GENTLEMAN!" Wood roared as Harry swerved to avoid a collision. "KNOCK HER OFF HER BROOM IF YOU HAVE TO!"

Drew then glared at Wood in disbelief, he can't believe Wood would tell Harry to do something terrible like that. Instinctively, Drew turned and caught sight of Cho.

The Snitch had vanished again. Drew saw Harry turned his Firebolt upward and was soon twenty feet above the game.

He also saw Cho following Harry...She'd decided to mark him rather than search for the Snitch herself...

Angelina Johnson scored ten points as Drew saw Harry dived again, and Cho tried to follow; Harry pulled out of the dive very sharply; she hurtled downward; he rose fast as a bullet once more.

Drew thought Harry must have seen the Snitch. Harry accelerated; so, many feet below, toward the field at the Ravenclaw end, Cho followed Harry quickly.

When Drew thought they were going to win, Cho screamed, "Oh!" She was pointing. Distracted, Drew looked down.

Three Dementors, three tall, black, hooded Dementors, were looking up at him. Harry and Drew didn't stop to think.

Plunging a hand down the neck of their robes, they whipped out their wands and roared, " _Expecto patronum!_ "

Something silver-white, something enormous, erupted from the end of their wands. Drew knew it had shot directly at the Dementors but didn't pause to watch; his mind still miraculously clear, he looked at Harry.

He saw Harry stretched out the hand still grasping his wand and just managed to close his fingers over the small, struggling Snitch.

Madam Hooch's whistle sounded. Drew dashed toward Harry excitedly. The whole team was hugging Harry so hard he was nearly pulled off his broom. Down below he could hear the roars of the Gryffindors in the crowd.

"That's my boy!" Wood kept yelling. Angelina and Katie had almost kissed Harry ("Hey, he's mine," said Drew as he gave Harry a protective hug.); Fred had him in a grip so tight and the team managed to make its way back to the ground.

Drew got off his broom and looked up to see a gaggle of Gryffindor supporters sprinting onto the field, Ron in the lead.

Before he knew it, Harry had been engulfed by the cheering crowd. "Yes!" Ron yelled, yanking Harry's arm into the air.

"Yes! Yes!" "Well done, Harry!" said Percy, looking delighted. "Ten Galleons to me! Must find Penelope, excuse me—"

"Good for you, Harry!" roared Seamus Finnigan. "Ruddy brilliant!" boomed Hagrid over the heads of the milling Gryffindors. "That was quite some Patronus," said a voice in Drew's ear.

Drew turned around to see Professor Lupin, who looked both shaken and pleased. "The Dementors didn't affect me at all!" Harry said excitedly. "I didn't feel a thing!"

"Me too!" squealed Drew joyfully. "That would be because they—er—weren't Dementors," said Professor Lupin. "Come and see—"

He led Harry and Drew out of the crowd until they were able to see the edge of the field. "You gave Mr. Malfoy quite a fright," said Lupin.

Harry stared. Lying in a crumpled heap on the ground were Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, and Marcus Flint, the Slytherin team Captain, all struggling to remove themselves from long, black, hooded robes.

It looked as though Malfoy had been standing on Goyle's shoulders. Standing over them, with an expression of the utmost fury on her face, was Professor McGonagall.

"An unworthy trick!" she was shouting. "A low and cowardly attempt to sabotage the Gryffindor Seeker! Detention for all of you, and fifty points from Slytherin! I shall be speaking to Professor Dumbledore about this, make no mistake! Ah, here he comes now!"

If anything could have set the seal on Gryffindor's victory, it was this. Ron, who had fought his way through to Harry's and Drew's side, doubled up with laughter as they watched Malfoy fighting to extricate himself from the robe, Goyle's head still stuck inside it.

"Come on, Harry!" said George, fighting his way over. "Party! Gryffindor common room, now!" "Right," said Harry.

"Let's go!" said Drew, and feeling happier than he had in ages, he and the rest of the team led the way, still in their scarlet robes, out of the stadium and back up to the castle.

It felt as though they had already won the Quidditch Cup; the party went on all day and well into the night. Fred and George Weasley disappeared for a couple of hours and returned with armfuls of bottles of butterbeer, pumpkin fizz, and several bags full of Honeydukes sweets.

"How did you do that?" squealed Angelina Johnson as George started throwing Peppermint Toads into the crowd. Then, Drew saw Fred whispered something to Harry.

Only one person wasn't joining in the festivities. Hermione, incredibly, was sitting in a corner, attempting to read an enormous book entitled _Home Life and Social Habits of British Muggles._

Harry and Drew broke away from the table where Fred and George had started juggling butterbeer bottles and went over to her.

"Did you even come to the match?" Harry asked her. "Of course I did," said Hermione in a strangely high-pitched voice, not looking up. "And I'm very glad we won, and I think you did really well, but I need to read this by Monday."

"Come on, Hermione, come and have some food," Harry said, looking over at Ron and wondering whether he was in a good enough mood to bury the hatchet.

"Yeah, if you don't want any food, go have a drink, your voice is so raspy like Professor Trelawney's," said Drew.

"I can't. I've still got four hundred and twenty-two pages to read!" said Hermione, now sounding slightly hysterical. "Anyway..." She glanced over at Ron too. "He doesn't want me to join in."

There was no arguing with this, as Ron chose that moment to say loudly, "If Scabbers hadn't just been eaten, he could have had some of those Fudge Flies. He used to really like them—"

Hermione bursted into tears. Before they could say or do anything, she tucked the enormous book under her arm, and, still sobbing, ran toward the staircase to the girls' dormitories and out of sight.

Drew was clenching his fist and gritting his teeth. "Can't you cut her some slack?" Drew asked Ron quietly.

"No," said Ron flatly. "If she just acted like she was sorry—but she'll never admit she's wrong, Hermione. She's still acting like Scabbers has gone on vacation or something." Drew sighed angrily at Ron.

The Gryffindor party ended only when Professor McGonagall turned up in her tartan dressing gown and hair net at one in the morning, to insist that they all go to bed.

Harry, Drew and Ron climbed the stairs to their dormitory, still discussing the match. When Drew finally was going to bed, Harry said, "Do you want to sleep in my bed?"

"Harry, you know I can't always sleep in your bed," said Drew tiredly. "Ohhh," said Harry in disappointment. "Please?"

Drew sighed and agreed. Drew climbed into Harry's bed and Harry lied next to him. Drew slowly closed his eyes and he suddenly felt something warm and slimy on his neck. Harry was kissing Drew's neck.

"Harry, stop it," said Drew. "I want to sleep," "You're no fun," said Harry childishly. Eyes-closed, Drew rolled his eyes.

Then, Drew had a sudden idea. He put his arm on Harry's chest and rubbed it slowly. Drew opened his eyes a fraction and saw Harry was blushing madly.

Drew smirked and put his hand inside his shirt which made Harry's face even redder. Drew touched and played with Harry's nipples.

After that, Drew put his hand inside Harry's underwear and that's when Harry moaned quietly; he had touched Harry's cock.

" _Drew~_ " called Harry seductively and Drew pulled his hand out of the underwear. "Why did you stop?" Drew chuckled and said, "Harry, you need to control your dirty hormones,"

"But—" "Good night, Harry," Drew then instantly drifting off to sleep. Drew was sleeping peacefully and Harry was hugging his beloved boyfriend.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRGGGHHHHHHH! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

Harry and Drew woke as suddenly as though they'd been hit in the face. Disoriented in the total darkness, Drew touched his surroundings like a blind man.

He could hear movements around him, and Seamus Finnigan's voice from the other side of the room.

"What's going on?" Drew thought he heard the dormitory door slam. Harry ripped the divide in his curtains back, and at the same moment, Dean Thomas lit his lamp.

Ron was sitting up in bed, the hangings torn from one side, a look of utmost terror on his face. "Black! Sirius Black! With a knife!"

"What?" "Here! Just now! Slashed the curtains! Woke me up!" "You sure you weren't dreaming, Ron?" said Dean. "Look at the curtains! I tell you, he was here!"

They all scrambled out of bed; Harry reached the dormitory door first, and they sprinted back down the staircase. Doors opened behind them, and sleepy voices called after them.

"Who shouted?" "What're you doing?" The common room was lit with the glow of the dying fire, still littered with the debris from the party. It was deserted.

"Are you sure you weren't dreaming, Ron?" "I'm telling you, I saw him!" "What's all the noise?" "Professor McGonagall told us to go to bed!"

A few of the girls had come down their staircase, pulling on dressing gowns and yawning. Boys, too, were reappearing. "Excellent, are we carrying on?" said Fred Weasley brightly.

"Everyone back upstairs!" said Percy, hurrying into the common room and pinning his Head Boy badge to his pajamas as he spoke.

"Perce—Sirius Black!" said Ron faintly. "In our dormitory! With a knife! Woke me up!"

The common room went very still. "Nonsense!" said Percy, looking startled. "You had too much to eat, Ron—had a nightmare—" "I'm telling you—" "Now, really, enough's enough!"

Professor McGonagall was back. She slammed the portrait behind her as she entered the common room and stared furiously around.

"I am delighted that Gryffindor won the match, but this is getting ridiculous! Percy, I expected better of you!" "I certainly didn't authorize this, Professor!" said Percy, puffing himself up indignantly. "I was just telling them all to get back to bed! My brother Ron here had a nightmare—"

"IT WASN'T A NIGHTMARE!" Ron yelled. "PROFESSOR, I WOKE UP, AND SIRIUS BLACK WAS STANDING OVER ME, HOLDING A KNIFE!"

Professor McGonagall stared at him. "Don't be ridiculous, Weasley, how could he possibly have gotten through the portrait hole?"

"Ask him!" said Ron, pointing a shaking finger at the back of Sir Cadogan's picture. "Ask him if he saw—"

Glaring suspiciously at Ron, Professor McGonagall pushed the portrait back open and went outside. The whole common room listened with bated breath. "Sir Cadogan, did you just let a man enter Gryffindor Tower?"

"Certainly, good lady!" cried Sir Cadogan. There was a stunned silence, both inside and outside the common room.

"You—you did?" said Professor McGonagall. "But—but the password!" "He had 'em!" said Sir Cadogan proudly. "Had the whole week's, my lady! Read 'em off a little piece of paper!"

Professor McGonagall pulled herself back through the portrait hole to face the stunned crowd. She was white as chalk.

"Which person," she said, her voice shaking, "which abysmally foolish person wrote down this week's passwords and left them lying around?"

There was utter silence, broken by the smallest of terrified squeaks. Neville Longbottom, trembling from head to fluffy slippered toes, raised his hand slowly into the air.

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	12. Destiny and Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drew met the Angel of Destiny

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No one in Gryffindor Tower slept that night. They knew that the castle was being searched again, and the whole House stayed awake in the common room, waiting to hear whether Black had been caught.

Professor McGonagall came back at dawn, to tell them that he had again escaped.

Throughout the day, everywhere they went they saw signs of tighter security; Professor Flitwick could be seen teaching the front doors to recognize a large picture of Sirius Black; Filch was suddenly bustling up and down the corridors, boarding up everything from tiny cracks in the walls to mouse holes.

Sir Cadogan had been fired. His portrait had been taken back to its lonely landing on the seventh floor, and the Fat Lady was back.

She had been expertly restored, but was still extremely nervous, and had agreed to return to her job only on condition that she was given extra protection.

A bunch of surly security trolls had been hired to guard her. They paced the corridor in a menacing group, talking in grunts and comparing the size of their clubs.

Drew couldn't help noticing that the statue of the one-eyed witch on the third floor remained unguarded and unblocked.

It seemed that Fred and George had been right in thinking that they—and now Harry, Drew, Ron, and Hermione—were the only ones who knew about the hidden passageway within it.

"D'you reckon we should tell someone?" Harry asked Ron. "We know he's not coming in through Honeyduke's," said Ron dismissively. "We'd've heard if the shop had been broken into."

Drew was glad Ron took this view. If the one-eyed witch was boarded up too, Harry would never be able to go into Hogsmeade again.

Ron had become an instant celebrity. For the first time in his life, people were paying more attention to him than to Harry, and it was clear that Ron was rather enjoying the experience.

Though still severely shaken by the night's events, he was happy to tell anyone who asked what had happened, with a wealth of detail.

"...I was asleep, and I heard this ripping noise, and I thought it was in my dream, you know? But then there was this draft...I woke up and one side of the hangings on my bed had been pulled down...I rolled over...and I saw him standing over me...like a skeleton, with loads of filthy hair...holding this great long knife, must've been twelve inches...and he looked at me, and I looked at him, and then I yelled, and he scampered.

"Why, though?" Ron added to Harry and Drew as the group of second year girls who had been listening to his chilling tale departed. "Why did he run?"

Drew had been wondering the same thing. Why had Black, having got the wrong bed, not silenced Ron and proceeded to Harry?

Black had proved twelve years ago that he didn't mind murdering innocent people, and this time he had been facing five unarmed boys, four of whom were asleep.

"He must've known he'd have a job getting back out of the castle once you'd yelled and woken people up," said Harry thoughtfully. "He'd've had to kill the whole house to get back through the portrait hole...then he would've met the teachers..."

"Maybe he's too tired and hungry, so he didn't have the energy to kill anybody," said Drew, shrugging. "But hey, that's just a theory, a possible theory," 

Neville was in total disgrace. Professor McGonagall was so furious with him she had banned him from all future Hogsmeade visits, given him a detention, and forbidden anyone to give him the password into the tower.

Poor Neville was forced to wait outside the common room every night for somebody to let him in, while the security trolls leered unpleasantly at him.

None of these punishments, however, came close to matching the one his grandmother had in store for him.

Two days after Black's break-in, she sent Neville the very worst thing a Hogwarts student could receive over breakfast—a Howler.

The school owls swooped into the Great Hall carrying the mail as usual, and Neville choked as a huge barn owl landed in front of him, a scarlet envelope clutched in its beak.

Harry, Drew and Ron, who were sitting opposite him, recognized the letter as a Howler at once—Ron had got one from his mother the year before. "Run for it, Neville," Ron advised.

Neville didn't need telling twice. He seized the envelope, and holding it before him like a bomb, sprinted out of the hall, while the Slytherin table exploded with laughter at the sight of him.

They heard the Howler go off in the entrance hall—Neville's grandmother's voice, magically magnified to a hundred times its usual volume, shrieking about how he had brought shame on the whole family.

Drew felt pity for Neville. Then, he noticed Harry's snow-owl, Hedwig, had brought a letter to Harry. "Harry, you got a letter," said Drew but Harry was too busy feeling sorry for Neville so Hedwig got his attention by nipping him sharply on the wrist. "Ouch! Oh—thanks, Hedwig." Drew rolled his eyes. 

Harry tore open the envelope while Hedwig helped herself to some of Neville's cornflakes. The note inside said:

_Dear Harry, Drew and Ron,_

 _How about having tea with me this afternoon 'round six? I'll come collect you from the castle. WAIT FOR ME IN THE ENTRANCE HALL; YOU'RE NOT ALLOWED OUT ON YOUR OWN._

_Cheers,_

_Hagrid_

"He probably wants to hear all about Black!" said Ron. So at six o'clock that afternoon, Harry, Drew and Ron left Gryffindor Tower, passed the security trolls at a run, and headed down to the entrance hall.

Hagrid was already waiting for them. "All right, Hagrid!" said Ron. "S'pose you want to hear about Saturday night, do you?"

"I've already heard all abou' it," said Hagrid, opening the front doors and leading them outside. "Oh," said Ron, looking slightly put out.

The first thing they saw on entering Hagrid's cabin was Buckbeak, who was stretched out on top of Hagrid's patchwork quilt, his enormous wings folded tight to his body, enjoying a large plate of dead ferret.

Averting his eyes from this unpleasant sight, Harry saw a gigantic, hairy brown suit and a very horrible yellow-and-orange tie hanging from the top of Hagrid's wardrobe door.

"What are they for, Hagrid?" said Harry. "Buckbeak's case against the Committee fer the Disposal o' Dangerous Creatures," said Hagrid. "This Friday. Him an' me'll be goin' down ter London together. I've booked two beds on the Knight Bus..."

Drew felt a nasty pang of guilt. He had completely forgotten that Buckbeak's trial was so near, and judging by the uneasy look on Harry's and Ron's face, they had too.

They had also forgotten their promise about helping him prepare Buckbeak's defense; the arrival of the Firebolt had driven it clean out of their minds.

Hagrid poured them tea and offered them a plate of Bath buns but they knew better than to accept; they had had too much experience with Hagrid's cooking.

"I got somethin' ter discuss with you three," said Hagrid, sitting himself between them and looking uncharacteristically serious. "What?" said Harry.

"Hermione," said Hagrid. "What about her?" said Ron. "She's in a righ' state, that's what. She's bin comin' down ter visit me a lot since Chris'mas. Bin feelin' lonely. Firs' yeh weren' talking to her because o' the Firebolts, now yer not talkin' to her because her cat—"

"He ate Scabbers!" Ron interjected angrily. "Because her cat acted like all cats do," Hagrid continued doggedly.

"She's cried a fair few times, yeh know. Goin' through a rough time at the moment. Bitten off more'n she can chew, if yeh ask me, all the work they're tryin' ter do—" "Wait, ' _they_ ' ?" said Drew. 

"Oh, did I forgot ter say that Peter helped me too?" It seemed that Hermione had told Peter about Buckbeak's case.

"They still found time ter help me with Buckbeak's case, mind...She's found some really good stuff fer me... reckon he'll stand a good chance now..." 

"Hagrid, we should've helped as well—sorry—" Harry began awkwardly. "I'm not blamin' yeh!" said Hagrid, waving Harry's apology aside.

"Gawd knows yeh've had enough ter be getting' on with. I've seen yeh practicin' Quidditch ev'ry hour o' the day an' night—but I gotta tell yeh, I thought you two'd value yer friend more'n broomsticks or rats. Tha's all." 

Harry, Drew and Ron exchanged uncomfortable looks. "Really upset, she was, when Black nearly stabbed yeh, Ron. She's got her heart in the right place, Hermione has, an' you three not talkin' to her—"

"If she'd just get rid of that cat, I'd speak to her again!" Ron said angrily. "But she's still sticking up for it! It's a maniac, and she won't hear a word against it!"

"Ah, well, people can be a bit stupid abou' their pets," said Hagrid wisely. Behind him, Buckbeak spat a few ferret bones onto Hagrid's pillow.

They spent the rest of their visit discussing Gryffindor's improved chances for the Quidditch Cup. At nine o'clock, Hagrid walked them back up to the castle.

A large group of people was bunched around the bulletin board when they returned to the common room.

"Hogsmeade, next weekend!" said Ron, craning over the heads to read the new notice. "What d'you reckon?" he added quietly to Harry and Drew as they went to sit down.

"Well, Filch hasn't done anything about the passage into Honeydukes." Harry said, even more quietly. "Harry!" said a voice in his right ear.

Harry and Drew startled and looked around at Hermione, who was sitting at the table right behind them and clearing a space in the wall of books that had been hiding her.

"Harry, if you go into Hogsmeade again...I'll tell Professor McGonagall about that map!" said Hermione. "Can you hear someone talking, Harry?" growled Ron, not looking at Hermione.

"Ron, how can you let him go with you? After what Sirius Black nearly did to you! I mean it, I'll tell—" "So now you're trying to get Harry expelled!" said Ron furiously. "Haven't you done enough damage this year?"

Hermione opened her mouth to respond, but with a soft hiss, Crookshanks leapt onto her lap. Hermione took one frightened look at the expression on Ron's face, gathered up Crookshanks, and hurried away toward the girls' dormitories.

"So how about it?" Ron said to Harry as though there had been no interruption. "Come on, last time we went you didn't see anything. You haven't even been inside Zonko's yet!"

Harry looked around to check that Hermione was well out of earshot. "Okay," he said. "But I'm taking the Invisibility Cloak this time." "Great—" Drew gasped; he'd been pulled into a premonition. 

He saw Peter, swinging by the trees with his spiderweb. He also saw tears were rolling down his cheek. Suddenly, his spiderweb broke and Peter started falling down. 

Peter closed his eyes and instead of doing anything to save his life, he did nothing. When Peter is close to the ground, the premonition ended.

Drew's eyes snapped open and saw Harry and Ron were looking at him. 

"Drew, we know you have a premonition," said Harry. Drew ignored him. "I think I don't want to go to Hogsmeade tomorrow," said Drew in a hollow voice. "May I ask why?" "You don't want to know," 

On Saturday morning, Harry packed his Invisibility Cloak in his bag, slipped the Marauder's Map into his pocket, and went down to breakfast with everyone else.

Hermione kept shooting suspicious looks down the table at him, but he avoided her eye and was careful to let her see him walking back up the marble staircase in the entrance hall as everybody else proceeded to the front doors.

"Bye!" Harry called to Ron. "See you when you get back!" Ron grinned and winked. Harry turned to Drew. "Are you sure you don't want to come?"

"I'm pretty sure," said Drew and Harry hurried up to the third floor, slipping the Marauder's Map out of his pocket as he went.

Then, Drew dashed to the Ravenclaw tower, which is on the fifth floor. As he reached his destination, he saw Percy's girlfriend, Penelope Clearwater and an unknown Ravenclaw girl student coming out of the common room. 

"Oh, Halliwell." said Penelope. "What are you doing here?" "I'm looking for Peter," Drew panted. "He's not here, he said he is going to the Black Lake," said the girl who was standing next to Penelope.

The Black Lake which was also known as the Great Lake, is a large body of water located to the south of the castle. It is about half a mile in diameter and the Hogwarts plumbing network drains into it.

"Thanks," Drew puffed and he rushed toward the Black Lake. When he arrived, he saw Peter was swinging recklessly by the trees. 

"Oh no," Drew mumbled to himself. "Peter, hang on!" The spiderweb broke into two lines and Peter started falling to the ground. 

He was just about to hit the ground when Drew froze him. "Pillows!" shouted Drew and pillows were now below Peter. Drew unfroze him and Peter fell on the pillows. 

Drew hurtled toward Peter. "Peter, are you ok?" There was no answer; Peter was crying. Then, Peter suddenly hugged him, still crying. 

Drew hugged him back. "Peter, what's wrong?" asked Drew maternally. Peter didn't say anything, instead he pulled a letter out of his robe. Drew opened it and the letter said:

_Dear Peter,_

_Hi, Peter. How are you? I hope you are doing well. Peter, I think you should sit down first. The reason I wrote this letter because..._

_Because...I want to inform you that your parents...had an accident. Oh, Peter, I'm so sorry to tell you this but your parents are dead._

_I just got the news this morning and they said that they died in a plane crash. Their funeral will take place next week. Tomorrow, you will leave the school for the funeral._

_Love,_

_Your Aunt May._

Drew's eyes widened and looked at Peter. Drew opened his mouth but no words came out. "I can't believe they are gone," sobbed Peter. 

"Peter..." Drew then wiped Peter's tears off his face. "did you try to commit a suicide?" Peter nodded weakly. 

"Peter, killing yourself won't do any good," said Drew. "I had lost my mother; Harry had lost his both parents," 

"If Harry and I can face that, you can too," said Drew as Peter stopped crying. "I-I—" stuttered Peter. "I know what you felt," said Drew. 

"Pain, anger, sadness," Peter stared at Drew, wiping the rest of his tears off his face. "It felt as if a thousand of thorns had pierced the heart."

"Drew," called Peter finally. "Do you think I can accept their deaths?" "Yes, you can but it's not easy," said Drew gloomily. "But it'll be a whole new adventure," 

"You know what, Drew?" said Peter, slightly happy. "I think I am going to be okay," "Now that's the spirit," said Drew and they got up.

"Do you wanna come?" said Peter. "You go first, I want to do something," said Drew and Peter bittersweetly headed back to the castle.

After Peter was out of sight, Drew casted a spell.

_Spirits of Air, Sand, and Sea,_

_Converge to set the Angel free._

_In the wind, I send this rhyme,_

_Bring Death before me before my time._

The Angel of Death appeared in front of Drew. "Oh, Drew Halliwell," said Death expressionless. "I believe that there's a reason for you to summon me,"

"About those three deaths," said Drew calmly. "Peter's parents were the two of them, weren't they?" Death advanced toward Drew a little bit more.

"No," Drew looked at him with shock. "Wait, they weren't?" "Drew, their deaths had been a shock to everyone, even to me," said Death with his deadly stare on his eyes.

"If you want some more information, I think you ought to ask a higher-rate person than me," said Death and he disappeared.

 _'A higher-rate person?'_ After a moment, he realized it. Drew then casted:

_The power of the witches rise,_

_The course unseen across the skies._

_Now I channel the Power of Three,_

_Call to me, the Angel of Destiny._

The Angel of Destiny was now in front of Drew. She was black and her eyes were brown. She also wore a beautiful blue gown.

"Who are you to summon me?" said Angel of Destiny sternly. "Me," said Drew bravely. This is Drew's first time meeting the Angel of Destiny so he was feeling nervous and excited at the same time. 

"Well, what do we have here? A Halliwell," said Destiny. "I want to talk to you about something," said Drew.

Drew thought she will said no at once but she said, "Make it quick. There's people waiting for their destiny too,"

"Do you know Peter's parents?" "Yes, in fact, I know everyone in the universe," "So, you know why they died so suddenly," said Drew thoughtfully.

"Yes," "So, why their destiny is to die?" said Drew, looking serious. "There's a reason for everything and there's a reason for their deaths to happen too,"

"So what's the reason?" said Drew impatiently. "Their deaths is supposed to make Peter stronger just like your mother's death made you stronger," said Destiny. 

Drew didn't say anything. He merely nodded. "Well, if there isn't anything else, I will leave," said Destiny. "Destiny will always awaits you," And she sparkled away. 

Drew then went back to the castle with a confusing smile on his face. When he had reached the castle, he saw Ron was running hastily toward the castle. 

"Ron, why are you running?" Ron looked like he just came back from a war. "Harry—is—in—trouble," Ron panted roughly. "What do you mean he's in trouble?" 

"Hogsmeade—Harry—mud—Malfoy—Snape," Ron was breathing loudly as if he had an asthma. "We—better—go," 

Ron almost fainted when Drew caught him. Then, they ran to Snape's office as fast as they could. They walked down the stairs to the dungeons. 

They suddenly heard Lupin's voice. "You see, Severus?" said Lupin. "It looks like a Zonko product to me—" 

Right on cue, Drew and Ron came bursting into the office. Ron was completely out of breath, and stopped just short of Snape's desk, clutching the stitch in his chest and trying to speak.

"I—gave—Harry—that—stuff," he choked. "Bought—it ...in Zonko's...ages—ago..."

"Well!" said Lupin, clapping his hands together and looking around cheerfully. "That seems to clear that up! Severus, I'll take this back, shall I?"

He folded the map and tucked it inside his robes. "Harry, Drew, Ron, come with me, I need a word about my vampire essay—excuse us, Severus—"

Drew didn't dare look at Snape as they left his office. He, Harry, Ron, and Lupin walked all the way back into the entrance hall before speaking.

Then Harry turned to Lupin." Professor, I—" "I don't want to hear explanations," said Lupin shortly. He glanced around the empty entrance hall and lowered his voice.

"I happen to know that this map was confiscated by Mr. Filch many years ago. Yes, I know it's a map," he said as Harry, Drew and Ron looked amazed.

"I don't want to know how it fell into your possession. I am, however, astounded that you didn't hand it in. Particularly after what happened the last time a student left information about the castle lying around. And I can't let you have it back, Harry."

Drew had expected that, and he didn't even to try to find an explanation to protest. Harry could get expelled and Drew didn't want that to happen.

"Why did Snape think I'd got it from the manufacturers?" "Because..." Lupin hesitated, "because these mapmakers would have wanted to lure you out of school. They'd think it extremely entertaining."

"Do you know them?" said Harry, impressed. "We've met," he said shortly. He was looking at Harry more seriously than ever before.

"Don't expect me to cover up for you again, Harry. I cannot make you take Sirius Black seriously. But I would have thought that what you have heard when the Dementors draw near you would have had more of an effect on you. Your parents gave their lives to keep you alive, Harry. A poor way to repay them—gambling their sacrifice for a bag of magic tricks."

He walked away, leaving Harry feeling guilty. Slowly, Harry, Drew and Ron mounted the marble staircase. Ron quietly explained what had happened at Hogsmeade to Drew. 

As they passed the one-eyed witch, Drew remembered Harry's Invisibility Cloak. "Harry, where's your Invisibility Cloak?" "It was still down there," said Harry as he pointed at the statue. "but after what happened, I didn't want to go and get it," 

"It's my fault," said Ron abruptly. "I persuaded you to go. Lupin's right, it was stupid, we shouldn't've done it—" 

He broke off; they reached the corridor where the security trolls were pacing, and Hermione was walking toward them.

One look at her face convinced Drew that she had heard what had happened. His heart sank—had she told Professor McGonagall?

"Come to have a good gloat?" said Ron savagely as she stopped in front of them. "Or have you just been to tell on us?"

"No," said Hermione. She was holding a letter in her hands and her lip was trembling. "I just thought you ought to know...Hagrid lost his case. Buckbeak is going to be executed. "

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	13. Gryffindor vs Slytherin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drew conjured his first Patronus.

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"He sent me this," Hermione said, holding out the letter. Harry took it. The parchment was damp, and enormous teardrops had smudged the ink so badly in places that it was very difficult to read.

_Dear Hermione,_

_We lost._

_I'm allowed to bring him back to Hogwarts. Execution date to be fixed._

_Beaky has enjoyed London._

_I won't forget all the help you and Peter gave us._

_Hagrid_

"They can't do this," said Harry. "They can't. Buckbeak isn't dangerous." "Malfoy's dad's frightened the Committee into it," said Hermione, wiping her eyes. "You know what he's like. They're a bunch of doddery old fools, and they were scared. There'll be an appeal, though, there always is. Only I can't see any hope...Nothing will have changed."

"Yeah, it will," said Ron fiercely. "You won't have to do all the work alone this time, Hermione. I'll help." "Oh, Ron!"

Hermione flung her arms around Ron's neck and broke down completely. Ron, looking quite terrified, patted her very awkwardly on the top of the head. Finally, Hermione drew away.

"Ron, I'm really, really sorry about Scabbers..." she sobbed. "Oh—well—he was old," said Ron, looking thoroughly relieved that she had let go of him. "And he was a bit useless. You never know, Mum and Dad might get me an owl now." 

"Hey, do you know where is Peter?" sobbed Hermione. "I want to tell him the news," "He's at the Ravenclaw tower, packing," said Drew.

"Wh—what?" "He needs to go back to the States," explained Drew. "His parents are gone," 

"Gone? You mean they are dead?" Drew nodded hardly. "Oh—er—well, I gotta go to see him," said Hermione sympathetically. 

The safety measures imposed on the students since Black's second break-in made it impossible for Harry, Drew, Ron, and Hermione to go and visit Hagrid in the evenings. Their only chance of talking to him was during Care of Magical Creatures lessons.

He seemed numb with shock at the verdict. "S'all my fault. Got all tongue-tied. They was all sittin' there in black robes an' I kep' droppin' me notes and forgettin' all them dates yeh an' Peter looked up fer me, Hermione. An' then Lucius Malfoy stood up an' said his bit, and the Committee jus' did exac'ly what he told 'em..." "There's still the appeal!" said Ron fiercely. "Don't give up yet, we're working on it!"

They were walking back up to the castle with the rest of the class. Ahead they could see Malfoy, who was walking with Crabbe and Goyle, and kept looking back, laughing derisively.

"S'no good, Ron," said Hagrid sadly as they reached the castle steps. "That Committee's in Lucius Malfoy's pocket. I'm jus' gonna make sure the rest o' Beaky's time is the happiest he's ever had. I owe him that..."

Hagrid turned around and hurried back toward his cabin, his face buried in his handkerchief. "Look at him blubber!"

Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle had been standing just inside the castle doors, listening. "Have you ever seen anything quite as pathetic?" said Malfoy. "And he's supposed to be our teacher!"

Harry, Drew and Ron both made furious moves toward Malfoy, but Hermione got there first—SMACK!

She had slapped Malfoy across the face with all the strength she could muster. Malfoy staggered. Harry, Ron, Crabbe, and Goyle stood flabbergasted as Hermione raised her hand again.

"Don't you dare call Hagrid pathetic, you foul—you evil—" "Hermione!" said Ron weakly, and he tried to grab her hand as she swung it back. "Get off, Ron—" 

SMACK! Drew had punched him...very hard. His nose started to bleed continuously. Crabbe and Goyle rolled up their sleeves but Drew conjured some strong wind and they both flew backwards. 

Malfoy was moaning in agony. Crabbe and Goyle looked at him for instructions, thoroughly bewildered.

Then, Malfoy wordlessly ran away, followed by his two bodyguards. In a moment, all three of them had disappeared into the passageway to the dungeons.

"Drew!" Ron said, sounding both stunned and impressed. "Harry, Drew, you'd better beat him in the Quidditch final!" Hermione said shrilly. "You just better had, because I can't stand it if Slytherin wins!"

"We're due in Charms," said Ron, still goggling at Hermione. "We'd better go." They hurried up the marble staircase toward Professor Flitwick's classroom.

"You're late, boys!" said Professor Flitwick reprovingly as Harry opened the classroom door. "Come along, quickly, wands out, we're experimenting with Cheering Charms today, we've already divided into pairs—" 

Harry, Drew and Ron hurried to a desk at the back and opened their bags. Ron looked behind him. "Where's Hermione gone?"

Harry and Drew looked around too. Hermione hadn't entered the classroom, yet Drew knew she had been right next to Harry when he had opened the door.

"That's weird," said Harry, staring at Drew and Ron. "Maybe—maybe she went to the bathroom or something?" But Hermione didn't turn up all lesson.

"She could've done with a Cheering Charm on her too," said Ron as the class left for lunch, all grinning broadly—the Cheering Charms had left them with a feeling of great contentment.

Hermione wasn't at lunch either. By the time they had finished their apple pie, the after-effects of the Cheering Charms were wearing off, and Harry, Drew and Ron had started to get slightly worried.

"You don't think Malfoy did something to her?" Ron said anxiously as they hurried upstairs toward Gryffindor Tower.

They passed the security trolls, gave the Fat Lady the password ("Flibbertigibbet"), and scrambled through the portrait hole into the common room.

Hermione was sitting at a table, fast asleep, her head resting on an open Arithmancy book. They went to sit down on either side of her. Harry prodded her awake.

"Wh—what?" said Hermione, waking with a start and staring wildly around. "Is it time to go? W—which lesson have we got now?"

"Divination, but it's not for another twenty minutes," said Harry. "Hermione, why didn't you come to Charms?"

"What? Oh no!" Hermione squeaked. "I forgot to go to Charms!" "But how could you forget?" said Harry. "You were with us till we were right outside the classroom!"

"I don't believe it!" Hermione wailed. "Was Professor Flitwick angry? Oh, it was Malfoy, I was thinking about him and I lost track of things!"

"You know what, Hermione?" said Ron, looking down at the enormous Arithmancy book Hermione had been using as a pillow. "I reckon you're cracking up. You're trying to do too much."

"No, I'm not!" said Hermione, brushing her hair out of her eyes and staring hopelessly around for her bag. "Yes, you are," said Drew sternly. "No, I'm not," Hermione repeated. 

"Yes, you are," "No, I'm not! I just made a mistake, that's all! I'd better go and see Professor Flitwick and say sorry...I'll see you in Divination!"

Hermione joined them at the foot of the ladder to Professor Trelawney's classroom twenty minutes later, looking extremely harassed.

"I can't believe I missed Cheering Charms! And I bet they come up in our exams; Professor Flitwick hinted they might!"

Together they climbed the ladder into the dim, stifling tower room. Glowing on every little table was a crystal ball full of pearly white mist. Harry, Drew, Ron, and Hermione sat down together at the same rickety table.

"I thought we weren't starting crystal balls until next term," Ron muttered, casting a wary eye around for Professor Trelawney, in case she was lurking nearby.

"Don't complain, this means we've finished palmistry," Harry muttered back. "I was getting sick of her flinching every time she looked at my hands."

"Harry, that's what Seers do," said Drew. "Drew, you're standing up for her now?" said Ron, looking annoyed. "No, I'm not,"

"Admit it, you did that just because she said you are ' _powerful enough_ ' to have the Inner Eye," Drew rolled his eyes and looked away. 

"Good day to you!" said the familiar, misty voice, and Professor Trelawney made her usual dramatic entrance out of the shadows. 

Drew was glad he wasn't the only one who liked Divination; Parvati and Lavender quivered with excitement, their faces lit by the milky glow of their crystal ball.

"I have decided to introduce the crystal ball a little earlier than I had planned," said Professor Trelawney, sitting with her back to the fire and gazing around. "The fates have informed me that your examination in June will concern the Orb, and I am anxious to give you sufficient practice."

Hermione snorted. "Well, honestly... _'the fates have informed her'._ Who sets the exam? She does! What an amazing prediction!" she said, not troubling to keep her voice low. Harry and Ron choked back laughs while Drew gave her a disapproving look. 

It was hard to tell whether Professor Trelawney had heard them as her face was hidden in shadow. She continued, however, as though she had not.

"Crystal gazing is a particularly refined art," she said dreamily. "I do not expect any of you to See when first you peer into the Orb's infinite depths. We shall start by practicing relaxing the conscious mind and external eyes—" 

Ron began to snigger uncontrollably and had to stuff his fist in his mouth to stifle the noise. "so as to clear the Inner Eye and the superconscious. Perhaps, if we are lucky, some of you will see before the end of the class."

And so they began. Drew stared thoughtfully at the crystal ball, trying to find an image. But his concentration was interrupted by Ron, who kept breaking into silent giggles and Hermione, who kept tutting.

"Seen anything yet?" Harry asked them after a quarter of an hour's quiet crystal gazing. "Yeah, there's a burn on this table," said Ron, pointing. "Someone's spilled their candle."

"This is such a waste of time," Hermione hissed. "I could be practicing something useful. I could be catching up on Cheering Charms—"

Professor Trelawney rustled past. "Would anyone like me to help them interpret the shadowy portents within their Orb?" she murmured over the clinking of her bangles.

"I don't need help," Ron whispered. "It's obvious what this means. There's going to be loads of fog tonight." Both Harry and Hermione burst out laughing and Drew glared at him. 

"Now, really!" said Professor Trelawney as everyone's heads turned in their direction. Parvati and Lavender were looking scandalized. 

"You are disturbing the clairvoyant vibrations!" She approached their table and peered into their crystal ball. Drew felt his heart sinking. He was sure he knew what was coming—

"There is something here!" Professor Trelawney whispered, lowering her face to the ball, so that it was reflected twice in her huge glasses. "Something moving...but what is it?"

Drew was prepared to bet everything he owned, Including his Firebolt, that it was the Grim. And sure enough—

"My dear," Professor Trelawney breathed, gazing up at Harry. "It is here, plainer than ever before...my dear, stalking toward you, growing ever closer...the Gr—" "Oh, for goodness' sake!" said Hermione loudly. "Not that ridiculous Grim again!"

Professor Trelawney raised her enormous eyes to Hermione's face. Parvati whispered something to Lavender, and they both glared at Hermione too. Professor Trelawney stood up, surveying Hermione with unmistakable anger.

"I am sorry to say that from the moment you have arrived in this class my dear, it has been apparent that you do not have what the noble art of Divination requires. Indeed, I don't remember ever meeting a student whose mind was so hopelessly mundane."

There was a moment's silence. Then— "Fine!" said Hermione suddenly, getting up and cramming _Unfogging the Future_ back into her bag.

"Fine!" she repeated, swinging the bag over her shoulder and almost knocking Ron off his chair. "I give up! I'm leaving!"

And to the whole class's amazement, Hermione strode over to the trapdoor, kicked it open, and climbed down the ladder out of sight.

It took a few minutes for the class to settle down again. Professor Trelawney seemed to have forgotten all about the Grim.

She turned abruptly from Harry and Ron's table, breathing rather heavily as she tugged her gauzy shawl more closely to her.

"Ooooo!" said Lavender suddenly, making everyone start. "Ooooo, Professor Trelawney, I've just remembered! You saw her leaving, didn't you? Didn't you, Professor? 'Around Easter, one of our number will leave us forever!' You said it ages ago, Professor!"

Professor Trelawney gave her a dewy smile. "Yes, my dear, I did indeed know that Miss Granger would be leaving us. One hopes, however, that one might have mistaken the Signs...The Inner Eye can be a burden, you know..."

Lavender and Parvati looked deeply impressed, and moved over so that Professor Trelawney could join their table instead.

"Some day Hermione's having, eh?" Ron muttered to Harry and Drew, looking awed. "Yeah..." Harry muttered 

The Easter holidays were not exactly relaxing. The third years had never had so much homework. Neville Longbottom seemed close to a nervous collapse, and he wasn't the only one.

"Call this a holiday!" Seamus Finnigan roared at the common room one afternoon. "The exams are ages away, what're they playing at?"

But nobody had as much to do as Hermione. Even without Divination, she was taking more subjects than anybody else.

She was usually last to leave the common room at night, first to arrive at the library the next morning; she had shadows like Lupin's under her eyes, and seemed constantly close to tears.

Ron had taken over responsibility for Buckbeak's appeal. When he wasn't doing his own work, he was poring over enormously thick volumes with names like _The Handbook of Hippogriff Psychology_ and _Fowl or Foul? A Study of Hippogriff Brutality._ He was so absorbed, he even forgot to be horrible to Crookshanks.

Harry and Drew, meanwhile, had to fit in their homework around Quidditch practice every day, not to mention endless discussions of tactics with Wood. 

The Gryffindor-Slytherin match would take place on the first Saturday after the Easter holidays. Slytherin was leading the tournament by exactly two hundred points. 

This meant (as Wood constantly reminded his team) that they needed to win the match by more than that amount to win the Cup. 

It also meant that the burden of winning fell largely on Harry, because capturing the Snitch was worth one hundred and fifty points.

"So you must catch it only if we're more than fifty points up," Wood told Harry constantly. "Only if we're more than fifty points up, Harry, or we win the match but lose the Cup. You've got that, Haven't you? You must catch the Snitch only if we're—" "I KNOW, OLIVER!" Harry yelled.

The whole of Gryffindor House was obsessed with the coming match. Gryffindor hadn't won the Quidditch Cup since the legendary Charlie Weasley (Ron's second oldest brother) had been Seeker. 

But Drew didn't care about winning, he didn't want Harry to die.

"Oliver needs to sort out his priorities," Drew told Harry as they headed back to the common room one day after the Quidditch practice. 

Malfoy was still smarting about the mud-throwing incident in Hogsmeade and was even more furious that Harry had somehow wormed his way out of punishment. 

Drew hadn't forgotten Malfoy's attempt to sabotage him in the match against Ravenclaw, but it was the matter of Buckbeak that made him most determined to beat Malfoy in front of the entire school.

Never, in anyone's memory, had a match approached in such a highly charged atmosphere. By the time the holidays were over, tension between the two teams and their Houses was at the breaking point. 

A number of small scuffles broke out in the corridors, culminating in a nasty incident in which a Gryffindor fourth year and a Slytherin sixth year ended up in the hospital wing with leeks sprouting out of their ears.

Harry was having a particularly bad time of it. He couldn't walk to class without Slytherins sticking out their legs and trying to trip him up; Crabbe and Goyle kept popping up wherever he went, and slouching away looking disappointed when they saw him surrounded by people.

Wood had given instructions that Harry should be accompanied everywhere he went, in case the Slytherins tried to put him out of action.

The whole of Gryffindor House took up the challenge enthusiastically, so that it was impossible for Harry to get to classes on time because he was surrounded by a vast, chattering crowd. 

Meanwhile, Drew put a Repelling Spell on Harry's and his Firebolts. "So, how does it work?" said Harry curiously. "If the Slytherins tried to steal our Firebolts, it will cause them to move away from them," 

But Harry still looked unconvinced, he locked his Firebolt securely in his trunk and frequently dashed back up to Gryffindor Tower at break times to check that it was still there.

All usual pursuits were abandoned in the Gryffindor common room the night before the match. Even Hermione had put down her books. "I can't work, I can't concentrate," she said nervously.

There was a great deal of noise. Fred and George Weasley were dealing with the pressure by being louder and more exuberant than ever.

Oliver Wood was crouched over a model of a Quidditch field in the corner, prodding little figures across it with his wand and muttering to himself. 

Angelina and Katie were laughing at Fred's and George's jokes. Drew was sitting with Harry, Ron and Hermione, removed from the center of things, trying not to think about the next day, because every time he did, he had the horrible sensation that something very large was fighting to get out of his stomach.

"You're going to be fine," Hermione told Harry and Drew, though she looked positively terrified. "You two have got a Firebolt!" said Ron.

"Yeah..." said Harry, looking worried. Drew then grabbed Harry's hand and and kissed it. Harry smiled and bussed Drew on the cheek.

It came as a relief when Wood suddenly stood up and yelled, "Team! Bed!"

Drew had a nightmare. First, he dreamt that they won the Quidditch Cup. The crowd were all cheering for Gryffindor while the Slytherins were crying like a baby. 

It was amazing until he appeared. The crowd except Harry and The Angel of Death had vanished.

"It's his time," said Death. "Wait, no," Death held his hand out to Harry and he grabbed it. Then, they walked away from Drew and they vanished. 

Drew woke up from his horrible nightmare. It was a few seconds before Harry remembered that the match hadn't taken place yet, that he was safe in bed, and that The Angel of Death hadn't take Harry away...yet.

He saw Harry sitting up on his bed. "Harry, did I wake you up?" "No, I had a nightmare," said Harry, sweating. "What, you had it too?" Drew nodded. 

They were feeling very thirsty. Quietly as they could, they got out of their four-posters and went to pour themselves some water from the silver jug beneath the window.

The grounds were still and quiet. No breath of wind disturbed the treetops in the Forbidden Forest; the Whomping Willow was motionless and innocent-looking. It looked as though the conditions for the match would be perfect.

Drew set down his goblet and turn back to his bed but Harry suddenly froze. "Harry, what's wrong—" Harry dashed to his bedside table, snatched up his glasses, and put them on, then hurried back to the window. 

"Harry, what's going on?" Drew peered out at the grounds again. After a minute of looking, Drew saw a cat, no, two cats. Drew summoned his glasses and put it on. 

It was Crookshanks and Dolores, Dylan's cat. Dylan always let Dolores out after the curfew. Then, Drew turned to Harry, eyes still on the window. 

"Harry, if you want to do a staring contest with them from afar, good luck," teased Drew as he pat Harry's back and subsequently proceeded to turn around and went back to his bed. 

"No! Look! Something was there," Harry insisted. "I tell you, Crookshanks and Dolores are—" "Ron!" Harry hissed. "Ron! Wake up!"

"Huh?" "I need you to tell me if you can see something!" "S'all dark, Harry," Ron muttered thickly. "What're you on about?" "Down here—" Drew looked back out of the window.

Crookshanks and Dolores had vanished. Harry climbed onto the windowsill to look right down into the shadows of the castle, but they weren't there. A loud snore told him Ron had fallen asleep again.

"Don't worry about them, cats are smart," assured Drew. "I'm sure they will come back," "It's not the cats I'm worried about," 

Drew and the rest of the Gryffindor team entered the Great Hall the next day to enormous applause. Harry couldn't help grinning broadly as he saw that both the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables were applauding them too. 

The Slytherin table hissed loudly as they passed. Drew noticed that Malfoy looked even paler than usual.

Wood spent the whole of breakfast urging his team to eat, while touching nothing himself. Then he hurried them off to the field before anyone else had finished, so they could get an idea of the conditions. As they left the Great Hall, everyone applauded again.

"Good luck, Harry!" called Cho. Drew felt his eyes twitching. "Okay—no wind to speak of—sun's a bit bright, that could impair your vision, watch out for it—ground's fairly hard, good, that'll give us a fast kickoff—"

Wood paced the field, staring around with the team behind him. Finally, they saw the front doors of the castle open in the distance and the rest of the school spilling onto the lawn. "Locker rooms," said Wood tersely.

None of them spoke as they changed into their scarlet robes. Harry wondered if they were feeling like he was: as though he'd eaten something extremely wriggly for breakfast. In what seemed like no time at all, Wood was saying, "Okay, it's time, let's go—"

They walked out onto the field to a tidal wave of noise. Three quarters of the crowd was wearing scarlet rosettes, waving scarlet flags with the Gryffindor lion upon them, or brandishing banners with slogans like "GO GRYFFINDOR!" and "LIONS FOR THE CUP" 

Behind the Slytherin goal posts, however, two hundred people were wearing green; the silver serpent of Slytherin glittered on their flags, and Professor Snape sat in the very front row, wearing green like everyone else, and a very grim smile.

"And here are the Gryffindors!" yelled Lee Jordan, who was acting as commentator as usual. "Potter, Bell, Johnson, Halliwell, Weasley, Weasley, and Wood. Widely acknowledged as the best team Hogwarts has seen in a good few years—"

Lee's comments were drowned by a tide of 'boos' from the Slytherin end. "And here come the Slytherin team, led by Captain Flint. He's made some changes in the lineup and seems to be going for size rather than skill—" 

More boos from the Slytherin crowd. Drew, however, thought Lee had a point. Malfoy was easily the smallest person. On the Slytherin team; the rest of them were enormous.

"Captains, shake hands!" said Madam Hooch. Flint and Wood approached each other and grasped each other's hand very tightly; it looked as though each was trying to break the other's fingers. "Mount your brooms!" said Madam Hooch. "Three...two...one..."

The sound of her whistle was lost in the roar from the crowd as fourteen brooms rose into the air. Harry felt his hair fly back off his forehead; his nerves left him in the thrill of the flight; he glanced around, saw Malfoy on his tail, and sped off in search of the Snitch.

"And it's Gryffindor in possession, Angelina Johnson of Gryffindor with the Quaffle, heading straight for the Slytherin goal posts, looking good, Angelina! Argh, no—Quaffle intercepted by Warrington, Warrington of Slytherin tearing UP the field—WHAM!—nice Bludger work there by George Weasley, Warrington drops the Quaffle, it's caught by—Halliwell, Gryffindor back in possession, come on, Drew—nice swerve around Montague—duck, Halliwell, that's a Bludger! SHE SCORES! TEN-ZERO TO GRYFFINDOR!"

Drew punched the air as he soared around the end of the field; the sea of scarlet below was screaming its delight. "OUCH!"

Drew was nearly thrown off from his broom as Marcus Flint went smashing to him. "Sorry!" said Flint as the crowd below booed. "Sorry, didn't see him!"

A moment later, Fred Weasley chucked his Beater's club at the back of Flint's head. Flint's nose smashed into the handle of his broom and began to bleed. "Ha!" shouted Drew. "Bet you didn't see that, did you?" 

"That will do!" shrieked Madam Hooch, zooming between then. "Penalty shot to Gryffindor for an unprovoked attack on their Chaser! Penalty shot to Slytherin for deliberate damage to their Chaser!"

"Come off it, Miss!" howled Fred, but Madam Hooch blew her whistle and Drew flew forward to take the penalty. "Come on, Drew!" yelled Lee into the silence that had descended on the crowd. "YES! HE'S BEATEN THE KEEPER! TWENTY-ZERO TO GRYFFINDOR!"

Drew turned the Firebolt sharply to watch Harry, smiling at him, fly forward to take the Slytherin penalty. Wood was hovering in front of the Gryffindor goal posts, his jaw clenched.

"'Course, Wood's a superb Keeper!" Lee Jordan told the crowd as Flint waited for Madam Hooch's whistle. "Superb! Very difficult to pass—very difficult indeed—YES! I DON'T BELIEVE IT! HE'S SAVED IT!"

Relieved, Drew zoomed away, grabbing the Quaffle. "Gryffindor in possession, no, Slytherin in possession—no! Gryffindor back in possession and it's Katie Bell, Katie Bell for Gryffindor with the Quaffle, she's streaking up the field—THAT WAS DELIBERATE!"

Montague, a Slytherin Chaser, had swerved in front of Katie, and instead of seizing the Quaffle had grabbed her head. Katie cart-wheeled in the air, managed to stay on her broom, but dropped the Quaffle.

Madam Hooch's whistle rang out again as she soared over to Montague and began shouting at him. A minute later, Katie had put another penalty past the Slytherin Seeker.

"THIRTY-ZERO! TAKE THAT, YOU DIRTY, CHEATING—" "Jordan, if you can't commentate in an unbiased way—" "I'm telling it like it is, Professor!"

Drew sighed, chuckling at Lee's antics. Then, he saw Harry pulled his Firebolt around and sped off toward the Slytherin end. Malfoy went haring after him, clearly thinking Harry had seen the Snitch there...

WHOOSH. One of the Bludgers came streaking past Harry's right ear, hit by the gigantic Slytherin Beater, Derrick. Then again... WHOOSH.

The second Bludger grazed Harry's elbow. The other Beater, Bole, was closing in. Drew saw Bole and Derrick zooming toward Harry, clubs raised—Harry turned the Firebolt upward at the last second, and Bole and Derrick collided with a sickening crunch.

"Ha haaa!" yelled Lee Jordan as the Slytherin Beaters lurched away from each other, clutching their heads. "Too bad, boys! You'll need to get up earlier than that to beat a Firebolt! And it's Gryffindor in possession again, as Johnson takes the Quaffle—Flint alongside her—poke him in the eye, Angelina!—it was a joke, Professor, it was a joke—oh no—Flint in possession, Flint flying toward the Gryffindor goal posts, come on now, Wood, save—!"

But Flint had scored; there was an eruption of cheers from the Slytherin end, and Lee swore so badly that Professor McGonagall tried to tug the magical megaphone away from him.

"Sorry, Professor, sorry! Won't happen again! So, Gryffindor in the lead, thirty points to ten, and Gryffindor in possession—"

It was turning into the dirtiest game Drew had ever played in. Enraged that Gryffindor had taken such an early lead, the Slytherins were rapidly resorting to any means to take the Quaffle. 

Bole hit Alicia with his club and tried to say he'd thought she was a Bludger. George Weasley elbowed Bole in the face in retaliation.

Madam Hooch awarded both teams penalties, and Wood pulled off another spectacular save, making the score forty-ten to Gryffindor.

Then, Katie scored. Fifty-ten. Fred and George Weasley were swooping around her, clubs raised, in case any of the Slytherins were thinking of revenge. 

Bole and Derrick took advantage of Fred's and George's absence to aim both Bludgers at Wood; they caught him in the stomach, one after the other, and he rolled over in the air, clutching his broom, completely winded.

Madam Hooch was beside herself— "YOU DO NOT ATTACK THE KEEPER UNLESS THE QUAFFLE IS WITHIN THE SCORING AREA!" she shrieked at Bole and Derrick. "Gryffindor penalty!"

And Angelina scored. Sixty-ten. Moments later, Fred Weasley pelted a Bludger at Warrington, knocking the Quaffle out of his hands; Drew seized it and put it through the Slytherin goal—seventy-ten.

The Gryffindor crowd below was screaming itself hoarse—Gryffindor was sixty points in the lead, and if Harry caught the Snitch now, the Cup was theirs. 

'Come on Harry' Drew thought. After a minute, Drew saw it. The Snitch was flying forty feet above him.

Harry put on a huge burst of speed; the wind was roaring in his ears; he stretched out his hand, but Malfoy had thrown himself forward, grabbed hold of the Firebolt's tail, and was pulling it back.

Drew was furious, no, outraged. Without thinking, Drew threw a huge fireball at him. Malfoy glanced on his right side and let go of the Firebolt when he saw the fireball. 

"Penalty! Penalty to Gryffindor! I've never seen such tactics." Madam Hooch screeched, shooting up to where Malfoy was sliding back onto his Nimbus Two Thousand and One.

"What about that Halliwell?" howled Flint. "He almost killed our Seeker!" "He did?" said Madam Hooch sarcastically. "Well, I will let him off the hook this time—" 

"YOU CHEATING SCUM!" Lee Jordan was howling into the megaphone, dancing out of Professor McGonagall's reach. "YOU FILTHY, CHEATING B—"

Professor McGonagall didn't even bother to tell him off. She was actually shaking her finger in Malfoy's direction, her hat had fallen off, and she too was shouting furiously.

Katie took Gryffindor's penalty, but she was so angry she missed by several feet. The Gryffindor team was losing concentration and the Slytherins, delighted by Malfoy's foul on Harry, were being spurred on to greater heights.

"Slytherin in possession, Slytherin heading for goal—Montague scores—" Lee groaned. "Seventy-twenty to Gryffindor..." 

"Get out of it, Potter!" Drew heard Malfoy yelled in frustration as Drew grasped the Quaffle. "Drew Halliwell gets the Quaffle for Gryffindor, come on, Drew, COME ON!"

At these words, every single Slytherin player apart from Malfoy was streaking up the pitch toward Drew, including the Slytherin Keeper—they were all going to block him.

Drew tried to get a clear shot but the snakes were all surrounding him. But Harry saved the day, he wheeled his Firebolt around, bent so low he was lying flat along the handle, and kicked it forward. Like a bullet, he shot toward the Slytherins. "AAAAAAARRRGH!"

They scattered as the Firebolt zoomed toward them; Drew's way was clear. "HE SCORES! HE SCORES! Gryffindor leads by eighty Points to twenty!"

And then Drew saw Malfoy was diving, a look of triumph on his face—there, a few feet above the grass below, was a tiny, golden glimmer—

Harry urged the Firebolt downward, but Malfoy was miles ahead— "HARRY! GO AFTER HIM!" Drew yelled. Harry was gaining on Malfoy—Harry flattened himself to the broom handle as Bole sent a Bludger at him—he was at Malfoy's ankles—he was level—

Harry threw himself forward, took both hands off his broom. He knocked Malfoy's arm out of the way and— "YES!"

He pulled out of his dive, his hand in the air, and the stadium exploded. Harry soared above the crowd. The tiny golden ball was held tight in his fist, beating its wings hopelessly against his fingers.

Then Wood was speeding toward him, half-blinded by tears; he seized Harry around the neck and sobbed unrestrainedly into his shoulder. 

As he reached Harry, Drew kissed Harry half-softly and half-passionately. In the moment of the kiss, Drew felt peaceful he didn't even hear the cheers from the Gryffindor end and the groan from the Slytherin end. 

Suddenly, Fred and George hit them; then Angelina's and Katie's voices, "We've won the Cup! We've won the Cup!" Tangled together in a many-armed hug, the Gryffindor team sank, yelling hoarsely, back to earth.

Wave upon wave of crimson supporters was pouring over the barriers onto the field. Hands were raining down on their backs...

Then he, and the rest of the team, were hoisted onto the shoulders of the crowd. Thrust into the light, he saw Hagrid, Plastered with crimson rosettes—"Yeh beat 'em, Harry, yeh beat 'em! Wait till I tell Buckbeak!"

There was Percy, jumping up and down like a maniac, all dignity forgotten. Professor McGonagall was sobbing harder even than Wood, wiping her eyes with an enormous Gryffindor flag; and there, fighting their way toward Harry and Drew, were Ron and Hermione.

Words failed them. They simply beamed as Harry was borne toward the stands, where Dumbledore stood waiting with the enormous Quidditch Cup.

As a sobbing Wood passed Harry the Cup, as he lifted it into the air, Drew took out his wands and shouted, "EXPECTO PATRONUM!" 

Then, out of the end of his wand burst, it was not a shapeless cloud of mist, instead it was a blinding, dazzling, silver bird. It was a phoenix. 

The bird twirled around and flew gracefully. Everyone looked at it in awe. "That was some Patronus right there," It was Dumbledore. "Phoenix is a rare Patronus, Drew. In fact, my Patronus is a phoenix too,"

"What does it mean, sir?" asked Drew. "It means that you are wise and loving and often know much than they appear to. You also know those around you very well. Moreover, you have a strong mind and good morals."

Everyone still had their mouths opened. Harry looked at Drew with a some sort of expression. Was it jealousy? Or was it admiration?

Then, they headed back to their House's common rooms. Everyone was now asking Drew questions. "Drew, how, did you do that?" "Can you teach me?" "Tell me your secrets,"

Even though they had won the Quidditch Cup, Drew was slightly irritated.

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	14. School life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Buckbeak is dead ☹️

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Drew's elation at finally winning the Quidditch Cup lasted at least a week. Even the weather seemed to be celebrating.

However, everyone started to follow Drew wherever he went. It seemed that everyone had become fans of Drew after the Patronus incident.

"Drew, can I have your autograph?" asked a Gryffindor. "Can you show me how you conjured that Patronus?" asked a Ravenclaw. They irritated Drew, very much. He didn't like attentions all on him; it made him extremely uncomfortable.

As June approached, the days became cloudless and sultry, and all anybody felt like doing was strolling onto the grounds and flopping down on the grass with several pints of iced pumpkin juice, perhaps playing a casual game of Gobstones or watching the giant squid propel itself dreamily across the surface of the lake.

But they couldn't. Exams were nearly upon them, and instead of lazing around outside, the students were forced to remain inside the castle, trying to bully their brains into concentrating while enticing wafts of summer air drifted in through the windows.

Even Fred and George Weasley had been spotted working; they were about to take their O. W. L. s (Ordinary Wizarding Levels). Percy was getting ready to take his N. E. W. T. s (Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests), the highest qualification Hogwarts offered.

As Percy hoped to enter the Ministry of Magic, he needed top grades. He was becoming increasingly edgy, and gave very severe punishments to anybody who disturbed the quiet of the common room in the evenings. In fact, the only person who seemed more anxious than Percy was Hermione.

Harry, Drew and Ron had given up asking her how she was managing to attend several classes at once, but they couldn't restrain themselves when they saw the exam schedule she had drawn up for herself. The first column read:

_Monday_

_9 o'clock, Arithmancy_

_9 o'clock, Transfiguration_

_Lunch_

_1 o'clock, Charms_

_1 o'clock, Ancient Runes_

"Oh my God," exclaimed Drew. "Hermione?" Ron said cautiously, because she was liable to explode when interrupted these days. "Er—are you sure you've copied down these times right?"

"What?" snapped Hermione, picking up the exam schedule and examining it. "Yes, of course I have." "Is there any point asking how you're going to sit for two exams at once?" said Harry.

"No," said Hermione shortly. "Have either of you seen my copy of _Numerology_ and _Gramatica_?" "Oh, yeah, I borrowed it for a bit of bedtime reading," said Ron, but very quietly. Hermione started shifting heaps of parchment.

Harry, Drew, Ron, and Hermione had plenty of opportunity to speak to Hagrid. "Beaky's gettin' a bit depressed," Hagrid told them, bending low on the pretense of checking that Harry's flobberworm was still alive. "Bin cooped up too long. But still...we'll know day after tomorrow—one way or the other—"

They had Potions that afternoon, which was a fortunate success for Drew. He victoriously managed to brew a Confusing Concoction, even with Snape, standing watch with an air of vindictive displeasure, scribbled something that looked suspiciously like a hundred onto his notes before moving away.

Then came Astronomy at midnight, up on the tallest tower; History of Magic on Wednesday morning, in which Drew scribbled everything Florean Fortescue had ever told him about medieval witch-hunts, while wishing he could have had one of Fortescue's choco-nut sundaes with him in the stifling classroom.

Wednesday afternoon meant Herbology, in the greenhouses under a baking-hot sun; then back to the common room once more, with sunburnt necks, thinking longingly of this time next day, when it would all be over.

Their second to last exam, on Thursday morning, was Defense Against the Dark Arts. Professor Lupin had compiled the most unusual exam any of them had ever taken; a sort of obstacle course outside in the sun, where they had to wade across a deep paddling pool containing a Grindylow, cross a series of potholes full of Red Caps, squish their way across a patch of marsh while ignoring misleading directions from a Hinkypunk, then climb into an old trunk and battle with a new Boggart.

"Amazing, Drew," said Lupin as he pat Drew's back. "Thanks, uncle," said Drew cheerfully as Harry climbed out of the trunk, grinning. "Excellent, Harry," Lupin muttered. "Full marks."

Flushed with his success, Harry hung around with Drew to watch Ron and Hermione. Ron did very well until he reached the Hinkypunk, which successfully confused him into sinking waist-high into the quagmire.

Hermione did everything perfectly until she reached the trunk with the Boggart in it. After about a minute inside it, she burst out again, screaming.

"Hermione!" said Lupin, startled. "What's the matter?" "P-P-Professor McGonagall!" Hermione gasped, pointing into the trunk. "Sh-she said I'd failed everything!"

Ron and Drew then fell to the ground, laughing their ass off; Harry turned around, tried hard not to laugh.

It took a little while to calm Hermione down. When at last she had regained a grip on herself, she, Harry, Drew, and Ron went back to the castle.

Ron was still slightly inclined to laugh at Hermione's Boggart, but an argument was averted by the sight that met them on the top of the steps.

Cornelius Fudge, sweating slightly in his pinstriped cloak, was standing there staring out at the grounds. He started at the sight of Harry.

"Hello there, Harry!" he said. "Just had an exam, I expect? Nearly finished?" "Yes," said Harry. Hermione, Drew and Ron, not being on speaking terms with the Minister of Magic, hovered awkwardly in the background.

"Lovely day," said Fudge, casting an eye over the lake. "Pity...pity..." He sighed deeply and looked down at Harry. "I'm here on an unpleasant mission, Harry. The Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures required a witness to the execution of a mad Hippogriff. As I needed to visit Hogwarts to check on the Black situation, I was asked to step in."

"Does that mean the appeal's already happened?" Ron interrupted, stepping forward. "No, no, it's scheduled for this afternoon," said Fudge, looking curiously at Ron.

"Then you might not have to witness an execution at all!" said Ron stoutly. "The Hippogriff might get off!"

Before Fudge could answer, two wizards came through the castle doors behind him. One was so ancient he appeared to be withering before their very eyes; the other was tall and strapping, with a thin back mustache.

Drew gathered that they were representatives of the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures, because the very old wizard squinted toward Hagrid's cabin and said in a feeble voice, "Dear, dear, I'm getting too old for this...Two o'clock, isn't it, Fudge?"

The black-mustached man was fingering something in his belt; Drew looked and saw that he was running one broad thumb along the blade of a shining axe.

Ron opened his mouth to say something, but Hermione nudged him hard in the ribs and jerked her head toward the entrance hall.

"Why'd you stop me?" said Ron angrily as they entered the Great Hall for lunch. "Did you see them? They've even got the axe ready! This isn't justice!"

"Ron, your dad works for the Ministry, you can't go saying things like that to his boss!" said Hermione, but she too looked very upset. "As long as Hagrid keeps his head this time, and argues his case properly, they can't possibly execute Buckbeak..."

But Drew could tell Hermione didn't really believe what she was saying. All around them, people were talking excitedly as they ate their lunch, happily anticipating the end of the exams that afternoon, but Harry, Drew, Ron, and Hermione, lost in worry about Hagrid and Buckbeak, didn't join in.

Harry's, Drew's and Ron's last exam was Divination; Hermione's, Muggle Studies. They walked up the marble staircase together; Hermione left them on the first floor and Harry, Drew and Ron proceeded all the way up to the seventh, where many of their class were sitting on the spiral staircase to Professor Trelawney's classroom, trying to cram in a bit of last-minute studying.

"She's seeing us all separately," Neville informed them as they went to sit down next to him. He had his copy of _Unfogging the Future_ open on his lap at the pages devoted to crystal gazing. "Have either of you ever seen anything in a crystal ball?" he asked them unhappily.

"Nope," said Ron in an offhand voice. He kept checking his watch; Harry. knew that he was counting down the time until Buckbeak's appeal started.

The line of people outside the classroom shortened very slowly. As each person climbed back down the silver ladder, the rest of the class hissed, "What did she ask? Was it okay?"

But they all refused to say. "She says the crystal ball's told her that if I tell you, I'll have a horrible accident!" squeaked Neville as he clambered back down the ladder toward Harry, Drew and Ron, who had now reached the landing.

"That's convenient," snorted Ron. "You know, I'm starting to think Hermione was right about her" —he jabbed his thumb toward the trapdoor overhead— "she's a right old fraud."

Drew then glared at him. "Yeah," said Harry, looking at his own watch. It was now two o'clock. "Wish she'd hurry up..."

Parvati came back down the ladder glowing with pride. "She says I've got all the makings of a true Seer," she informed Harry, Drew and Ron. "I saw loads of stuff...Well, good luck!"

She hurried off down the spiral staircase toward Lavender. "Ronald Weasley," said the familiar, misty voice from over their heads.

Ron grimaced at Harry and Drew and climbed the silver ladder out of sight. Harry and Drew were now the only person left to be tested.

Drew grabbed Harry's hand and settled himself on the floor with his back against the wall, listening to a fly buzzing in the sunny window, his mind across the grounds with Hagrid.

Finally, after about twenty minutes, Ron's large feet reappeared on the ladder. "How'd it go?" Harry asked him, standing up. "Rubbish," said Ron. "Couldn't see a thing, so I made some stuff up. Don't think she was convinced, though..."

"Meet you in the common room," Harry muttered as Professor Trelawney's voice called, "Harry Potter!"

As Harry got up and climbed the ladder, Drew wished him good luck. After ten minutes of waiting, Harry climbed back down the ladder, looking bewildered.

"Harry," said Drew. "How did it go?" "I heard—" "Drew Halliwell," called Professor Trelawney.

"Well, good luck," said Harry quickly as he gave Drew a kiss on the cheek and headed back to the common room.

The tower room was hotter than ever before; the curtains were closed, the fire was alight, and the usual sickly scent made Drew cough as he stumbled through the clutter of chairs and table to where Professor Trelawney sat waiting for him before a large crystal ball.

"Good day, my dear," she said softly. "If you would kindly gaze into the Orb...Take your time, now...then tell me what you see within it..."

Drew bent over the crystal ball and stared, stared as hard as he could, willing it to show him something other than swirling white fog, but nothing happened. "Well?" Professor Trelawney prompted delicately. "What do you see?"

The heat was overpowering and his nostrils were stinging with the perfumed smoke wafting from the fire beside them. Suddenly, he had a premonition.

Harry was sitting in a chair in Professor Trelawney's tower. The vision changed into Harry's watch; it was just a few minutes earlier.

Harry just finished his Divination exam. He got up, picked up his bag and turned to go, but then a loud, harsh voice spoke behind him.

"IT WILL HAPPEN TONIGHT." Harry wheeled around. Professor Trelawney had gone rigid in her armchair; her eyes were unfocused and her mouth sagging. "S—sorry?" said Harry.

But Professor Trelawney didn't seem to hear him. Her eyes started to roll. Harry sat there in a panic. She looked as though she was about to have some sort of seizure.

Drew gulped, he had never seen Professor Trelawney being so...weird before?—and then Professor Trelawney spoke again, in the same harsh voice, quite unlike her own:

"THE DARK LORD LIES ALONE AND FRIENDLESS, ABANDONED BY HIS FOLLOWERS. HIS SERVANT HAS BEEN CHAINED THESE TWELVE YEARS. TONIGHT, BEFORE MIDNIGHT...THE SERVANT WILL BREAK FREE AND SET OUT TO REJOIN HIS MASTER. THE DARK LORD WILL RISE AGAIN WITH HIS SERVANT'S AID, GREATER AND MORE TERRIBLE THAN EVER HE WAS. TONIGHT... BEFORE MIDNIGHT...THE SERVANT...WILL SET OUT...TO REJOIN... HIS MASTER..."

Drew's eyes snapped open, breathing loudly. He looked at Professor Trelawney. "Well?" "Wait, you didn't see my premonition?" "I maybe a Seer, my dear," said Professor Trelawney calmly. "But I had no right to see your premonition,"

"You said the Dark Lord will rise again," Drew told Professor Trelawney hastily. "You also said the servant will break free and set out to rejoin the Dark Lord,"

"Don't be silly," said Professor Trelawney casually. "Well, you got full marks," "But I didn't see anything in the crystal ball," "But you have seen something special, haven't you?"

Drew was speechless. "You may go, my dear," Drew got up from his chair and climbed back down the ladder and the spiral staircase as quick as he could.

Drew couldn't believe what he had seen and heard. Voldermort is going to be resurrected...Drew bet the servant was none other than Sirius Black.

Five minutes later he was dashing past the security trolls outside the entrance to Gryffindor Tower, Professor Trelawney's words still resounding in his head.

People were striding past him in the opposite direction, laughing and joking, heading for the grounds and a bit of long-awaited freedom; by the time he had reached the portrait hole and entered the common room, it was almost deserted.

Over in the corner, however, sat Harry, Ron and Hermione. They were looking impatient and nervous. "Guys," Harry panted, "What's wrong?"

"Buckbeak lost," said Ron weakly. "Hagrid's just sent this." Hagrid's note was dry this time, no tears had splattered it, yet his hand seemed to have shaken so much as he wrote that it was hardly legible.

_Lost appeal. They're going to execute at sunset. Nothing you can do. Don't come down. I don't want you to see it._

_Hagrid_

Drew slightly covered his mouth. "We've got to go," said Harry at once. "He can't just sit there on his own, waiting for the executioner!" "Sunset, though," said Ron, who was staring out the window ill a glazed sort of way. "We'd never be allowed...'specially you, Harry..."

"But we just can't leave Hagrid alone," said Drew sternly. Harry sank his head into his hands. "If we only had the Invisibility Cloak ..."

"Where is it?" said Hermione. Harry told her about leaving it in the passageway under the one-eyed witch. "...if Snape sees me anywhere near there again, I'm in serious trouble," he finished.

"That's true," said Hermione, getting to her feet. "If he sees you... How do you open the witch's hump again?" "You—you tap it and say, 'Dissendium,'" said Harry. "But—"

Hermione didn't wait for the rest of his sentence; she strode across the room, pushed open the Fat Lady's portrait and vanished from sight.

"She hasn't gone to get it?" Ron said, staring after her. She had. Hermione returned a quarter of an hour later with the silvery cloak folded carefully under her robes.

"Hermione, I don't know what's gotten, into you lately!" said Ron, astounded. "First you hit Malfoy, then you walk out on Professor Trelawney—" Hermione looked rather flattered.

They went down to dinner with everybody else, but did not return to Gryffindor Tower afterward. Harry had the cloak hidden down the front of his robes; he had to keep his arms folded to hide the lump. They skulked in an empty chamber off the entrance hall, listening, until they were sure it was deserted.

They heard a last pair of people hurrying across the hall and a door slamming. Hermione poked her head around the door. "Okay," she whispered, "no one there—cloak on—"

Walking very close together so that nobody would see them, they crossed the hall on tiptoe beneath the cloak, then walked down the stone front steps into the grounds. The sun was already sinking behind the Forbidden Forest, gilding the top branches of the trees.

They reached Hagrid's cabin and knocked. He was a minute in answering, and when he did, he looked all around for his visitor, pale-faced and trembling.

"It's us," Harry hissed. "We're wearing the Invisibility Cloak. Let us in and we can take it off." "Yeh shouldn've come!" Hagrid whispered, but he stood back, and they stepped inside. Hagrid shut the door quickly and Harry pulled off the cloak.

Hagrid was not crying, nor did he throw himself upon their necks. He looked like a man who did not know where he was or what to do. This helplessness was worse to watch than tears.

"Wan' some tea?" he said. His great hands were shaking as he reached for the kettle. "Where's Buckbeak, Hagrid?" said Hermione hesitantly.

"I—I took him outside," said Hagrid, spilling milk all over the table as he filled up the jug. "He's tethered in me pumpkin patch. Thought he oughta see the trees an'—an' smell fresh air—before—"

Hagrid's hand trembled so violently that the milk jug slipped from his grasp and shattered all over the floor. "I'll do it, Hagrid," said Hermione quickly, hurrying over and starting to clean up the mess.

"There's another one in the cupboard," Hagrid said, sitting down and wiping his forehead on his sleeve. Drew glanced at Harry and Ron, who looked back hopelessly.

"Isn't there anything anyone can do, Hagrid?" Harry asked fiercely, sitting down next to him. "Dumbledore—" "He's tried," said Hagrid. "He's got no power ter overrule the Committee. He told 'em Buckbeak's all right, but they're scared...Yeh know what Lucius Malfoy's like...threatened 'em, I expect...an' the executioner, Macnair, he's an old pal o' Malfoy's...but it'll be quick an' clean...an' I'll be beside him..."

Hagrid swallowed. His eyes were darting all over the cabin as though looking for some shred of hope or comfort. "Dumbledore's gonna come down while it—while it happens. Wrote me this mornin'. Said he wants ter—ter be with me. Great man, Dumbledore..." Drew put his hand on Hagrid's arm sympathetically and Hagrid smiled at Drew.

Hermione, who had been rummaging in Hagrid's cupboard for another milk jug, let out a small, quickly stifled sob. She straightened up with the new jug in her hands, fighting back tears.

"We'll stay with you too, Hagrid," she began, but Hagrid shook his shaggy head. "Yeh're ter go back up ter the castle. I told yeh, I don' wan' yeh watchin'. An' yeh shouldn' be down here anyway...If Fudge an' Dumbledore catch yeh out without permission, Harry, yeh'll be in big trouble."

Silent tears were now streaming down Hermione's face, but she hid them from Hagrid, bustling around making tea. Then, as she picked up the milk bottle to pour some into the jug, she let out a shriek.

"Ron, I don't believe it—it's Scabbers!" Ron gaped at her. "What are you talking about?"

Hermione carried the milk jug over to the table and turned it upside down. With a frantic squeak, and much scrambling to get back inside, Scabbers the rat came sliding out onto the table."Scabbers!" said Ron blankly. "Scabbers, what are you doing here?"

He grabbed the struggling rat and held him up to the light. Scabbers looked dreadful. He was thinner than ever, large tufts of hair had fallen out leaving wide bald patches, and he writhed in Ron's hands as though desperate to free himself.

"It's okay, Scabbers!" said Ron. "No cats! There's nothing here to hurt you!" Hagrid suddenly stood up, his eyes fixed on the window. His normally ruddy face had gone the color of parchment. "They're comin'..."

Harry, Drew, Ron, and Hermione whipped around. A group of men was walking down the distant castle steps. In front was Albus Dumbledore, his silver beard gleaming in the dying sun.

Next to him trotted Cornelius Fudge. Behind them came the feeble old Committee member and the executioner, Macnair.

"Yeh gotta go," said Hagrid. Every inch of him was trembling. "They mustn' find yeh here...Go now..." Ron stuffed Scabbers into his pocket and Hermione picked up the cloak. "I'll let yeh out the back way," said Hagrid.

They followed him to the door into his back garden. Harry felt strangely unreal, and even more so when he saw Buckbeak a few yards away, tethered to a tree behind Hagrid's pumpkin patch. Buckbeak seemed to know something was happening. He turned his sharp head from side to side and pawed the ground nervously.

"It's okay, Beaky," said Hagrid softly. "It's okay..." He turned to Harry, Drew, Ron, and Hermione. "Go on," he said. "Get goin'." But they didn't move.

"Hagrid, we can't—" "We'll tell them what really happened—" "They can't kill him—" "Go!" said Hagrid fiercely. "It's bad enough without you lot in trouble an' all!"

They had no choice. As Hermione threw the cloak over Harry, Drew and Ron, they heard voices at the front of the cabin. Hagrid looked at the place where they had just vanished from sight.

"Go quick," he said hoarsely. "Don' listen..." And he strode back into his cabin as someone knocked at the front door.

Slowly, in a kind of horrified trance, Harry, Drew, Ron, and Hermione set off silently around Hagrid's house. As they reached the other side, the front door closed with a sharp snap.

"Please, let's hurry," Hermione whispered. "I can't stand it, I can't bear it..."

They started up the sloping lawn toward the castle. The sun was sinking fast now; the sky had turned to a clear, purple-tinged gray, but to the west there was a ruby-red glow.

Drew turned his face around and saw the Angel of Death, he was standing in front of Hagrid's hut.

As Drew looked away, Ron stopped dead. "Oh, please, Ron," Hermione began. "It's Scabbers—he won't—stay put—"

Ron was bent over, trying to keep Scabbers in his pocket, but the rat was going berserk; squeaking madly, twisting and flailing, trying to sink his teeth into Ron's hand.

"Scabbers, it's me, you idiot, it's Ron," Ron hissed.They heard a door open behind them and men's voices.

"Oh, Ron, please let's move, they're going to do it!" Hermione breathed. "Okay—Scabbers, stay put—"

They walked forward; Drew, like Hermione, was trying not to listen to the rumble of voices behind them. Ron stopped again. "I can't hold him—Scabbers, shut up, everyone'll hear us!"

The rat was squealing wildly, but not loudly enough to cover up the sounds drifting from Hagrid's garden. There was a jumble of indistinct male voices, a silence, and then, without warning, the unmistakable swish and thud of an axe.

Drew stopped. The Angel of Death had taken Buckbeak's life. Hermione swayed on the spot. "They did it!" she whispered. "I'd—don't believe it—they did it!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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	15. Black's Anatomy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drew kinda stood up to Harry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY LUNAR NEW YEAR! 🧧🧨🐄  
> 恭喜发财，红包拿来，日月长命  
> I wish you good health and lasting prosperity Happy Chinese New Year. 😁
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Drew's mind had gone blank with shock. The four of them stood transfixed with horror under the Invisibility Cloak.

The very last rays of the setting sun were casting a bloody light over the long-shadowed grounds. Then, behind them, they heard a wild howling.

"Hagrid," Harry muttered. Without thinking about what he was doing, he made to turn back, but both Ron and Drew seized his arms.

"We can't," said Ron, who was paper-white. "He'll be in worse trouble if they know we've been to see him..." Hermione's breathing was shallow and uneven.

"How—could—they?" she choked. "How could they?" Drew then hugged her for a moment. "Come on," said Ron, whose teeth seemed to be chattering.

They set off back toward the castle, walking slowly to keep themselves hidden under the cloak. The light was fading fast now. By the time they reached open ground, darkness was settling like a spell around them.

"Scabbers, keep still," Ron hissed, clamping his hand over his chest. The rat was wriggling madly. Ron came to a sudden halt, trying to force Scabbers deeper into his pocket.

"What's the matter with you, You stupid rat? Stay still—OUCH! He bit me!" "Ron, be quiet!" Hermione whispered urgently. "Fudge'll be out here in a minute—" "He won't—stay—put—"

Scabbers was plainly terrified. He was writhing with all his might, trying to break free of Ron's grip. "What's the matter with him?"

But Drew had just seen—stinking toward them, their bodies low to the ground, two pairs of wide yellow eyes glinting eerily in the darkness—Crookshanks and Dolores.

Whether they could see them or was following the sound of Scabbers's squeaks, Drew couldn't tell.

"Dolores!" They turned around and saw Dylan was running toward them. "Dolores, what are you doing here?" said Dylan as he picked Dolores up. "Crookshanks!" Hermione whispered. "No, go away, Crookshanks! Go away!"

Dylan looked around. "Who's there?" said Dylan as Crookshanks was getting nearer. "Scabbers—NO!"

Too late—the rat had slipped between Ron's clutching fingers, hit the ground, and scampered away. In one bound, Crookshanks sprang after him, and before Harry or Drew or Hermione could stop him, Ron had thrown the Invisibility Cloak off himself and pelted away into the darkness.

"Ron!" Drew whispered-shouted. "Drew?" called Dylan, looking shocked and confused. "Where are you? I can't see you—" "Ron!" Hermione moaned.

She, Drew and Harry looked at one another, then followed at a sprint; it was impossible to run full out under the cloak; they pulled it off and it streamed behind them like a banner as they hurtled after Ron; Dylan, who was clueless about what's happening right now, carried Dolores and sprinted after them; they could hear his feet thundering along ahead and his shouts at Crookshanks.

"Get away from him—Scabbers, come here—" There was a loud thud. "Gotcha! Get off, you stinking cat—"

Harry, Drew, Dylan and Hermione almost fell over Ron; they skidded to a stop right in front of him. He was sprawled on the ground, but Scabbers was back in his pocket; he had both hands held tight over the quivering lump.

"Ron—come on back under the cloak—" Hermione panted. "Dumbledore—the Minister—they'll be coming back out in a minute—"

"Drew, what's going on—" Dolores suddenly scratched Dylan and he let the cat go, moaning in pain. "Dolores!" shouted Dylan as Dolores ran towards Crookshanks.

But before they could cover themselves again, before they could even catch their breath, they heard the soft pounding of gigantic paws...Something was bounding toward them, quiet as a shadow—an enormous, pale-eyed, jet-black dog.

Harry reached for his wand, but too late—the dog had made an enormous leap and the front paws hit him on the chest; he keeled over backward in a whirl of hair; he felt its hot breath, saw inch-long teeth.

But the force of its leap had carried it too far; it rolled off him. Drew stood up; he could hear it growling as it skidded around for a new attack.

Ron was on his feet. As the dog sprang back toward them he pushed Harry aside; the dog's jaws fastened instead around Ron's outstretched arm.

Harry and Drew lunged forward, they seized a handful of the brute's hair, but it was dragging Ron away as easily as though he were a rag doll—

Then, out of nowhere, something hit Harry and Drew so hard across the face he was knocked off his feet again. They heard Hermione and Dylan shriek with pain and fall too.

Harry groped for his wand, blinking blood out of his eyes. "Lumos!" he whispered.

The wandlight showed him the trunk of a thick tree; they had chased Scabbers into the shadow of the Whomping Willow and its branches were creaking as though in a high wind, whipping backward and forward to stop them going nearer.

And there, at the base of the trunk, was the dog, dragging Ron backward into a large gap in the roots—Ron was fighting furiously, but his head and torso were slipping out of sight—

"Ron!" Harry shouted, trying to follow, but a heavy branch whipped lethally through the air and he was forced backward again. Drew, who was bleeding in the head, tried to freeze the tree but one of the branches had hit him strongly hard in the hand.

All they could see now was one of Ron's legs, which he had hooked around a root in an effort to stop the dog from pulling him farther underground.

Dylan tried to release Ron from the dog's bite—but the dog was way more stronger—so it pulled Ron in a sudden and quick move which made Dylan fell into the gap—then they heard a horrible crack cut the air like a gunshot; Ron's leg had broken, and a moment later, his foot vanished from sight.

"Harry—we've got to go for help—" Hermione gasped; she was bleeding too; the Willow had cut her across the shoulder. "No! That thing's big enough to eat him; we haven't got time—" "What about my brother!" shrieked Drew.

"We're never going to get through without help—" Another branch whipped down at them, twigs clenched like knuckles.

"If that dog can get in, we can," Harry panted, darting here and there, trying to find a way through the vicious, swishing branches, but he couldn't get an inch nearer to the tree roots without being in range of the tree's blows.

"Oh, help, help," Hermione whispered frantically, dancing uncertainly on the spot, "Please..." As Hermione was panicking, Drew threw several fireballs at the tree.

Crookshanks and Dolores darted forward. They slithered between the battering branches like a snake. Crookshanks placed his front paws upon a knot on the trunk.

Abruptly, as though the tree had been turned to marble, it stopped moving. Not a leaf twitched or shook. "Crookshanks!" Hermione whispered uncertainly. She now grasped Harry's and Drew's arm painfully hard. "How did he know—"

"They're friends with that dog," said Harry grimly. "I've seen them together. Come on—and keep your wand out—"

They covered the distance to the trunk in seconds, but before they had reached the gap in the roots, Crookshanks had slid into it with a flick of his bottlebrush tail. Dolores then followed him.

Harry and Drew went next; they held hands, crawled forward, headfirst, and slid down an earthy slope to the bottom of a very low tunnel.

Crookshanks and Dolores were a little way along, his eyes flashing in the light from Harry's wand. Seconds later, Hermione slithered down beside them.

"Where's Ron?" she whispered in a terrified voice. "Where's Dylan?" said Drew in panic. "Dylan! Where are you!" But Harry and Hermione shushed him up.

"This way," said Harry, setting off, bent-backed, after Crookshanks and Dolores. "Where does this tunnel come out?" Hermione asked breathlessly from behind him.

"I don't know...It's marked on the Marauder's Map but Fred and George said no one's ever gotten into it...It goes off the edge of the map, but it looked like it was heading for Hogsmeade..."

They moved as fast as they could, bent almost double; ahead of them, Crookshanks's and Dolores's tails bobbed in and out of view.

On and on went the passage; it felt at least as long as the one to Honeydukes...All Drew could think of was Ron, Drew and what the enormous dog might be doing to them...He was drawing breath in sharp, painful gasps, running at a crouch...

And then the tunnel began to rise; moments later it twisted, and the cats had gone. Ahead Drew could see a patch of dim light through a small opening.

He, Harry and Hermione paused, gasping for breath, edging forward. The three of them raised their wands to see what lay beyond.

It was a room, a very disordered, dusty room. Paper was peeling from the walls; there were stains all over the floor; every piece of furniture was broken as though somebody had smashed it. The windows were all boarded up.

Drew glanced at Hermione, who looked very frightened but nodded then turned to Harry, still holding Drew's hand. Drew squeezed Harry's hand to let him know that he didn't need to be afraid.

Harry seemed to get the message; his eyes fell on Drew's and squeezed back, smiling.

Drew pulled himself out of the hole, staring around. The room was deserted, but a door to their right stood open, leading to a shadowy hallway.

Hermione suddenly grabbed Harry's and Drew's arm again. Her wide eyes were traveling around the boarded windows.

"Harry, Drew," she whispered, "I think we're in the Shrieking Shack." Drew looked around. His eyes fell on a wooden chair near them.

Large chunks had been torn out of it; one of the legs had been ripped off entirely. "Ghosts didn't do that," he said slowly.

At that moment, there was a creak overhead. Something had moved upstairs. They looked up at the ceiling. Hermione's grip on boys' arms was so tight they were losing feeling in his fingers. Harry raised his eyebrows at her; she nodded again and let go.

Quietly as they could, they crept out into the hall and up the crumbling staircase. Everything was covered in a thick layer of dust except the floor, where a wide shiny stripe had been made by something being dragged upstairs.

They reached the dark landing. "Nox," they whispered together, and the lights at the end of their wands went out. Only one door was open.

As they crept toward it, they heard movement from behind it; a low moan, and then a deep, loud purring. They exchanged a last look, a last nod. Wand held tightly before him, Harry kicked the door wide open.

On a magnificent four-poster bed with dusty hangings lay Crookshanks, purring loudly at the sight of them. On the floor beside him, clutching his leg, which stuck out at a strange angle, was Ron and beside him was Dylan, he was lying unconscious.

Harry, Drew and Hermione dashed across to him. "Ron—are you okay?" "Dylan!" squealed Drew. "Dylan! Wake up!" "Where's the dog?" asked Harry.

"Not a dog," Ron moaned. His teeth were gritted with pain. "Harry, it's a trap—" "What—" "He's the dog...he's an Animagus."

Ron was staring over Harry's shoulder. Drew wheeled around. With a snap, the man in the shadows closed the door behind them.

A mass of filthy, matted hair hung to his elbows. If eyes hadn't been shining out of the deep, dark sockets, he might have been a corpse.

The waxy skin was stretched so tightly over the bones of his face, it looked like a skull. His yellow teeth were bared in a grin. It was Sirius Black. "Expelliarmus!" he croaked, pointing Ron's wand at them.

Harry's, Drew's and Hermione's wands shot out of their hands, high in the air, and Black caught them. Then he took a step closer.

His eyes were fixed on Harry. "I thought you'd come and help your friend," he said hoarsely.

His voice sounded as though he had long since lost the habit of using it. "Your father would have done the same for me. Brave of you not to run for a teacher. I'm grateful...it will make everything much easier..." Drew was confused. What is he talking about?

Without knowing what he was doing, Harry started forward, but there was a sudden movement on either side of him and three pairs of hands grabbed him and held him back...

"No, Harry!" Hermione gasped in a petrified whisper; Ron, however, spoke to Black.

"If you want to kill Harry, you'll have to kill us too!" he said fiercely, though the effort of standing upright was draining him of still more color, and he swayed slightly as he spoke.

Something flickered in Black's shadowed eyes. "Lie down," he said quietly to Ron. "You will damage that leg even more." "Did you hear me?" Ron said weakly, though he was clinging painfully to Harry to stay upright. "You'll have to kill all three of us!"

"There'll be only one murder here tonight," said Black, and his grin widened. "Why's that?" Harry spat, trying to wrench himself free of Ron, Drew and Hermione.

"Didn't care last time, did you? Didn't mind slaughtering all those Muggles to get at Pettigrew...What's the matter, gone soft in Azkaban?"

"Harry!" Hermione whimpered. "Be quiet!" "HE KILLED MY MUM AND DAD!" Harry roared, and with a huge effort he broke free of Hermione's, Drew's and Ron's restraint and lunged forward—

One of Harry's hands fastened over his wasted wrist, forcing the wand tips away; the knuckles of Harry's other hand collided with the side of Black's head and they fell, backward, into the wall—

Hermione was screaming; Ron was yelling; Drew was trying to separate them from killing each other. "Harry! Please! Stop!"

"Move, Drew!" shouted Harry coldly as he pushed Drew. As he fell to the ground, Drew gritted his teeth and froze both Harry and Black.

Without knowing what she should do, Hermione took her, Drew's and Ron's wand from Black's grip. Then, Drew unfroze Harry's and Black's head.

"Hmph—what's happening?" said Black in shock. "Drew, unfreeze me, NOW!" Harry demanded angrily.

"No, I won't," said Drew coldly. "But he killed—" "You don't need to tell me twice!" shouted Drew. "I know what he did and killing him won't do any good!"

"Your Mom and Dad wouldn't want this," "Wouldn't want this? Of course they want this! Black betrayed them, he betrayed his own friends!"

Drew breathed in and out; he was trying to calm himself down. "But they wouldn't want you to be a murderer, would they?"

Harry opened his mouth, trying to argue about it but he knew Drew was right so he kept quiet.

Suddenly, a voice can be heard. "Drew? Dylan? Where are you?" It sounds like...Damien. "Damien! We're down here!" shouted Drew. At these words, loud footsteps can be heard.

The door of the room was opened and Damien slowly came in. "Drew, what happened—" He then saw Sirius Black. As he took out his wand, Sirius and Harry unfroze.

Without hesitation, Harry punched every part of Black he could find. "Harry! No!" But Black's free hand had found Harry's throat. "No," he hissed, "I've waited too long,"

The fingers tightened, Harry choked, his glasses askew. Then Damien shouted hesitantly, "P-Petrificus Totalus!" A jet of white light shot out of his wand but he missed.

Hermione's foot suddenly swing out of nowhere. Black let go of Harry with a grunt of pain; Ron had thrown himself on Black; Drew froze his body once again.

Harry grasp his wand from Hermione's hand. "Get out of the way!" he shouted at Ron, Drew and Hermione.

Hermione and Ron didn't need telling twice. Hermione, gasping for breath, her lip bleeding, scrambled aside, snatching up her and Ron's wands. Ron crawled to the four-poster and collapsed onto it, panting, his white face now tinged with green, both hands clutching his broken leg.

However, Drew didn't move. "Move, Halliwell," said Harry darkly. "I won't let you," "So now you're protecting him?" Harry clenched his fist and sent a death stare at Drew.

"Move," Drew still didn't move. "I said move!" Drew startled but still didn't budge from his place. Harry looked hesitated but after a moment, he pointed his wand at Drew and said, "Last chance, Halliwell,"

Drew looked at Hermione and Ron, who were looking worried then turned to Damien, who was looking anxious. Drew sighed and finally moved out of the way.

Black was frozen on the spot. Harry walking slowly nearer, his wand pointing straight at Black's heart. "Going to kill me, Harry?" he whispered.

Harry stopped right above him, his wand still pointing at Black's chest, looking down at him. A livid bruise was rising around Black's left eye and his nose was bleeding.

"You killed my parents," said Harry, his voice shaking slightly, but his wand hand quite steady. Black stared up at him out of those sunken eyes.

"I don't deny it," he said very quietly. "But if you knew the whole story." "The whole story?" Harry repeated, a furious pounding in his ears. "You sold them to Voldemort. That's all I need to know."

"You've got to listen to me," Black said, and there was a note of urgency in his voice now. "You'll regret it if you don't...You don't understand..."

"I understand a lot better than you think," said Harry, and his voice shook more than ever. "You never heard her, did you? My mum... trying to stop Voldemort killing me...and you did that...you did it..."

Before either of them could say another word, something ginger streaked past Harry; Crookshanks and Dolores leapt onto Black's chest and settled himself there, right over Black's heart. Black blinked and looked down at the cat. "Get off," he murmured, trying to push the two cats off him.

But Crookshanks sank his claws into Black's robes and wouldn't shift. He turned his ugly, squashed face to Harry and looked up at him with those great yellow eyes. To his right, Hermione gave a dry sob; to his left, Drew covered his mouth in disbelief.

Harry stared down at Black, Dolores and Crookshanks, his grip tightening on the wand. So what if he had to kill the cat too? It was in league with Black...

If they were prepared to die, trying to protect Black, that wasn't Harry's business...If Black wanted to save it, that only proved he cared more for the cats than for Harry's parents...

Harry raised the wand. Now was the moment to do it. Now was the moment to avenge his mother and father. He was going to kill Black. He had to kill Black. This was his chance...

The seconds lengthened. And still Harry stood frozen there, wand poised, Black staring up at him, Crookshanks on his chest.

Ron's ragged breathing came from near the bed; Hermione was quite silent; Drew looked away, waiting for Harry to end Black's life; Damien was kneeling next to an unconscious Dylan.

And then came a new sound—Muffled footsteps were echoing up through the floor—someone was moving downstairs. "WE'RE UP HERE!" Hermione screamed suddenly. "WE'RE UP HERE—SIRIUS BLACK—QUICK!"

Black made a startled movement that almost dislodged Crookshanks; Harry gripped his wand convulsive, the footsteps were thundering up the stairs and Harry still hadn't done it.

The door of the room burst open in a shower of red sparks and Harry wheeled around as Professor Lupin came hurtling into the room, his face bloodless, his wand raised and ready.

His eyes flickered over Ron, lying on the floor, over Hermione, cowering next to the door, over the Halliwell brothers, to Harry, standing there with his wand covering Black, and then to Black himself, crumpled and bleeding at Harry's feet. "Expelliarmus!" Lupin shouted.

Harry's wand flew once more out of his hand; so did Damien's, Dylan's and the other three Hermione was holding. Lupin caught them all deftly, then moved into the room, staring at Black, who still had Crookshanks and Dolores lying protectively across his chest.

Harry just stood there. Then Lupin spoke, in a very tense voice. "Where is he, Sirius?"

Drew looked quickly at Lupin. He didn't understand what Lupin meant. Who was Lupin talking about? He turned to look at Black again.

Black's face was quite expressionless. For a few seconds, he didn't move at all. Then, very slowly, he raised his empty hand and pointed straight at Ron. Mystified, Drew glanced around at Ron, who looked bewildered.

"But then..." Lupin muttered, staring at Black so intently it seemed he was trying to read his mind, "...why hasn't he shown himself before now? Unless—"

Lupin's eyes suddenly widened, as though he was seeing something beyond Black, something none of the rest could see, "—unless he was the one...unless you switched...without telling me?"

Very slowly, his sunken gaze never leaving Lupin's face, Black nodded. "Professor," Harry interrupted loudly, "what's going on—"

But he never finished the question, because what he saw made his voice die in his throat. Lupin was lowering his wand, gazing fixed at Black.

The Professor walked to Black's side, seized his hand, pulled him to his feet so that Crookshanks fell to the floor, and embraced Black like a brother.

Drew felt as though his heart just exploded. "I DON'T BELIEVE IT!" Hermione screamed.

Lupin let go of Black and turned to her. She had raised herself off the floor and was pointing at Lupin, wild-eyed. "You—you—" "Hermione—"you and him!" "Hermione, calm down—

"I didn't tell anyone!" Hermione shrieked. "I've been covering up for you—" "Hermione, listen to me, please" Lupin shouted. "I can explain—"

Harry was shaking, not with fear, but with a fresh wave of fury. "I trusted you," he shouted at Lupin, his voice wavering, out of control, "and all the time you've been his friend!"

"You're wrong," said Lupin. "I haven't been Sirius's friend, but I am now—Let me explain..." "How could you," said Drew in a hollow voice. "How could you do this! What about Uncle Tyler! You have a family, you are _my_ family...how could you," "Drew, I can explain,"

"NO!" Hermione screamed. "Harry, don't trust him, he's been helping Black get into the castle, he wants you dead too—he's a werewolf!"

There was a ringing silence. Everyone's eyes were now on Lupin, who looked remarkably calm, though rather pale.

"Not at all up to your usual standard, Hermione," he said. "Only one out of three, I'm afraid. I have not been helping Sirius get into the castle and I certainly don't want Harry dead."

An odd shiver passed over his face. "But I won't deny that I am a werewolf." Drew chuckled darkly. "I should've expose you!" "Wait, you know?"

"Of course I know," said Drew. "And you didn't tell us!" shouted Harry. Ron made a valiant effort to get up again but fell back with a whimper of pain.

Lupin made toward him, looking concerned, but Ron gasped, "Get away from me, werewolf!" Lupin stopped dead. Then, with an obvious effort, he turned to Hermione and said, "How long have you known?"

"Ages," Hermione whispered. "Since I did Professor Snape's essay..." "He'll be delighted," said Lupin coolly. "He assigned that essay hoping someone would realize what my symptoms meant... Did you check the lunar chart and realize that I was always ill at the full moon? Or did you realize that the Boggart changed into the moon when it saw me?"

"Both," Hermione said quietly. Lupin forced a laugh. "You're the cleverest witch of your age I've ever met, Hermione." "I'm not," Hermione whispered. "If I'd been a bit cleverer, I'd have told everyone what you are!"

"But they already know," said Lupin. "At least, the staff do." "Dumbledore hired you when he knew you were a werewolf," Ron gasped. "Is he mad?"

"Some of the staff thought so," said Lupin. "He had to work very hard to convince certain teachers that I'm trustworthy—" "AND HE WAS WRONG!" Harry yelled. "YOU'VE BEEN HELPING HIM ALL THE TIME!"

He was pointing at Black, who suddenly crossed to the four-poster bed and sank onto it, his face hidden in one shaking hand.

Crookshanks and Dolores leapt up beside him and stepped onto his lap, purring. Ron edged away from both of them, dragging his leg.

"I have not been helping Sirius," said Lupin. "If you'll give me a chance, I'll explain. Look—" He separated Harry's, Drew's, Ron's and Hermione's wands and threw each back to its owner; Harry caught his, stunned.

"There," said Lupin, sticking his own wand back into his belt "You're armed, we're not. Now will you listen?"

Drew didn't know what to think. Was it a trick? Drew raised his hand and ready to freeze him just in case Lupin attacked. "If you haven't been helping him," Harry said, with a furious glance at Black, "how did you know he was here?"

"The map," said Lupin. "The Marauder's Map. I was in my office examining it—" "You know how to work it?" Harry said suspiciously.

"Of course I know how to work it," said Lupin, waving his hand impatiently. "I helped write it. I'm Moony—that was my friends' nickname for me at school. "

"You wrote—" "The important thing is, I was watching it carefully this evening, because I had an idea that you, Ron, and Hermione might try and sneak out of the castle to visit Hagrid before his Hippogriff was executed. And I was right, wasn't I?"

He had started to pace up and down, looking at them. Little patches of dust rose at his feet. "You might have been wearing your father's old cloak, Harry—"

"How d'you know about the cloak?" "The number of times I saw James disappearing under it..." said Lupin, waving an impatient hand again.

"The point is, even if you're wearing an Invisibility Cloak, you still show up on the Marauder's Map. I watched you cross the grounds and enter Hagrid's hut. Twenty minutes later, you left Hagrid, and set off back toward the castle. But you were now accompanied by somebody else." "What?" said Harry. "No, we weren't!"

"I couldn't believe my eyes," said Lupin, still pacing, and ignoring Harry's interruption. "I thought the map must be malfunctioning. How could he be with you?"

"No one was with us!" said Harry. "And then I saw another dot, moving fast toward you, labeled Sirius Black...I saw him collide with you; I watched as he pulled two of you into the Whomping Willow—"

"One of us!" Ron said angrily. "No, Ron," said Lupin. "Two of you." He had stopped his pacing, his eyes moving over Ron. "Do you think I could have a look at the rat?" he said evenly.

"What?" said Ron. "What's Scabbers got to do with it?" "Everything," said Lupin. "Could I see him, please?"

Ron hesitated, then put a hand inside his robes. Scabbers emerged, thrashing desperately; Ron had to seize his long bald tail to stop him escaping.

Crookshanks and Dolores stood up on Black's leg and made a soft hissing noise.

Lupin moved closer to Ron. He seemed to be holding his breath as he gazed intently at Scabbers.

"What?" Ron said again, holding Scabbers close to him, looking scared. "What's my rat got to do with anything?" "That's not a rat," croaked Sirius Black suddenly.

"What d'you mean—of course he's a rat—" "No, he's not," said Lupin quietly. "He's a wizard." "An Animagus," said Black, "by the name of Peter Pettigrew."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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	16. The Marauder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lupin told them the truth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like/Kudos= Pro
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> Comment=Hacker
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> Bookmark=God
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It took a few seconds for the absurdity of this statement to sink in. Then Ron voiced what Drew was thinking.

"You're both mental." "Absurd!" said Drew. "Ridiculous!" said Hermione faintly. "Peter Pettigrew's dead!" said Harry. "He killed him twelve years ago!" He pointed at Black, whose face twitched convulsively.

"I meant to," he growled, his yellow teeth bared, "but little Peter got the better of me...not this time, though!"

And Crookshanks and Dolores were thrown to the floor as Black lunged at Scabbers; Ron yelled with pain as Black's weight fell on his broken leg.

"Sirius, NO!" Lupin yelled, launching himself forwards and dragging Black away from Ron again, "WAIT! You can't do it just like that—they need to understand—we've got to explain—" 

"We can explain afterwards!" snarled Black, trying to throw Lupin off. One hand was still clawing the air as it tried to reach Scabbers, who was squealing like a piglet, scratching Ron's face and neck as he tried to escape.

"They've—got—a—right—to—know—everything!" Lupin panted, still trying to restrain Black. "Ron's kept him as a pet! There are parts of it even I don't understand, and Harry—you owe Harry the truth, Sirius!"

Black stopped struggling, though his hollowed eyes were still fixed on Scabbers, who was clamped tightly under Ron's bitten, scratched, and bleeding hands.

"All right, then," Black said, without taking his eyes off the rat. "Tell them whatever you like. But make it quick, Remus. I want to commit the murder I was imprisoned for."

"You're nutters, both of you," said Ron shakily, looking round at Harry, Drew and Hermione for support. "I've had enough of this. I'm off."

He tried to heave himself up on his good leg, but Lupin raised his wand again, pointing it at Scabbers. "You're going to hear me out, Ron," he said quietly. "Just keep a tight hold on Peter while you listen."

"HE'S NOT PETER, HE'S SCABBERS!" Ron yelled, trying to force the rat back into his front pocket, but Scabbers was fighting too hard; Ron swayed and overbalanced, and Harry caught him am pushed him back down to the bed. Then, ignoring Black, Harry turned to Lupin.

"There were witnesses who saw Pettigrew die," he said. "A whole street full of them..." "They didn't see what they thought they saw!" said Black savagely, still watching Scabbers struggling in Ron's hands.

"Everyone thought Sirius killed Peter," said Lupin, nodding. "I believed it myself—until I saw the map tonight. Because the Marauder's map never lies...Peter's alive. Ron's holding him, Harry. "

Drew looked down at Ron, and as their eyes met, they agreed, silently: Black and Lupin were both out of their minds. Their story made no sense whatsoever. 

How could Scabbers be Peter Pettigrew? Azkaban must have unhinged Black after all—but why was Lupin playing along with him?

Then Hermione spoke, in a trembling, would-be calm sort of voice, as though trying to will Professor Lupin to talk sensibly. "But Professor Lupin...Scabbers can't be Pettigrew...it just can't be true, you know it can't..."

"Why can't it be true?" Lupin said calmly, as though they were in class, and Hermione had simply spotted a problem in an experiment with Grindylows.

"Because...because people would know if Peter Pettigrew had been an Animagus. We did Animagi in class with Professor McGonagall. And I looked them up when I did my homework—the Ministry of Magic keeps tabs on witches and wizards who can become animals; there's a register showing what animal they become, and their markings and things...and I went and looked Professor McGonagall up on the register, and there have been only seven Animagi this century, and Pettigrew's name wasn't on the list."

Drew was happy enough to marvel inwardly at the effort Hermione put into her homework, when Lupin started to laugh.

"Right again, Hermione!" he said. "But the Ministry never knew that here used to be three unregistered Animagi running around Hogwarts."

"If you're going to tell them the story, get a move on, Remus," said Black, who was still watching Scabbers's every desperate move. "I've waited twelve years, I'm not going to wait much longer."

"All right...but you'll need to help me, Sirius," said Lupin, "I only know how it began..."

Lupin broke off. There had been a loud creak behind him. The bedroom door had opened of its own accord. All except Dylan stared at it. Then Lupin strode toward it and looked out into the landing.

"No one there..." "This place is haunted!" said Ron. "It's not,' said Lupin, still looking at the door in a puzzled way. "The Shrieking Shack was never haunted...the screams and howls the villagers used to hear were made by me."

He pushed his graying hair out of his eyes, thought for a moment then said, "That's where all of this starts—with my becoming a werewolf, None of this could have happened if I hadn't been bitter... and if I hadn't been so foolhardy..."

"But it wasn't your fault," said Drew suddenly. "I saw you; I had a premonition, you were asleep when you got your bite, you were bitten by an another werewolf and your father saved you," 

"Yes, it's true that...become a werewolf...wasn't my fault but..."  
He looked sober and tired. Ron started to interrupt, but Hermione, said, "Shh!" She was watching Lupin very intently.

"I as a very small boy when I received the bite. My parents tried everything, but in those days there was no cure. The potion that Professor Snape has been making for me is a very recent discovery. It makes me safe, you see. As long as I take it in the week, preceding the full moon, I keep my mind when I transform... I'm able to curl up in my office, a harmless wolf, and wait for the moon to wane again."

"Before the Wolfsbane Potion was discovered, however, I became a fully fledged monster once a month. It seemed impossible that I would be able to come to Hogwarts. Other parents weren't likely to want their children exposed to me." 

"But then Dumbledore became Headmaster, and he was sympathetic. He said that as long as we took certain precautions, there was no reason I shouldn't come to school..." 

Lupin sighed, and looked directly at Harry. "I told you, months ago, that the Whomping Willow was planted the year I came to Hogwarts. The truth is that it was planted because I came to Hogwarts. This house—" 

Lupin looked miserably around the room, "—the tunnel that leads to it—they were built for my use. Once a month, I was smuggled out of the castle, into this place, to transform. The tree was placed at the tunnel mouth to stop anyone coming across me while I was dangerous."

Drew couldn't see where this story was going, but he was listening raptly all the same. The only sound apart from Lupin's voice was Scabbers's frightened squeaking.

"My transformations in those days were—were terrible. It is very painful to turn into a werewolf. I was separated from humans to bite, so I bit and scratched myself instead. The villagers heard the noise and the screaming and thought they were hearing particularly violent spirits. Dumbledore encouraged the rumor...Even now, when the house has been silent for years, the villagers don't dare approach it..."

"But apart from my transformations, I was happier than I had ever been in my life. For the first time ever, I had friends, four great friends. Sirius Black...Peter Pettigrew...your father, Harry—James Potter and your mother, Drew—Catherine Smith."

"You know our mother?" said Damien finally. "Of course, she is the most popular kid in Hogwarts," said Lupin as he smiled. "Now, my four friends could hardly fail to notice that I disappeared once a month. I made up all sorts of stories. I told them my mother was ill, and that I had to go home to see her...I was terrified they would desert me the moment they found out what I was. But of course, they, like you, Hermione, worked out the truth..."

"And they didn't desert me at all. Instead, they did something for me that would make my transformations not only bearable, but the best times of my life. They became Animagi."

"My dad too?" said Harry, astounded. "And my mom as well?" said Drew. "Yes, indeed," said Lupin. "It took them the best part of three years to work out how to do it. Your father and Sirius here were the cleverest students in the school, and lucky they were, because the Animagus transformation can go horribly wrong—one reason the Ministry keeps a close watch on those attempting to do it. Peter and Catherine needed all the help he could get from James and Sirius. Finally, in our fifth year, they managed it. They could each turn into a different animal at will."

"But how did that help you?" said Hermione, sounding puzzled. "They couldn't keep me company as humans, so they kept me company as animals," said Lupin. "A werewolf is only a danger to people. They sneaked out of the castle every month under James's Invisibility Cloak. They transformed...Peter and Catherine, as a rabbit and a rat—" 

"Rabbit?" said Drew in awe. "Yes. Rabbit, they would take turns and slip beneath the Willow's attacking branches and touch the knot that freezes it. They would then slip down the tunnel and join me. Under their influence, I became less dangerous. My body was still wolfish, but my mind seemed to become less so while I was with them."

"Hurry up, Remus," snarled Black, who was still watching Scabbers with a horrible sort of hunger on his face.

"I'm getting there, Sirius, I'm getting there...well, highly exciting possibilities were open to us now that we could all transform. Soon we were leaving the Shrieking Shack and roaming the school grounds and the village by night. Sirius and James transformed into such large animals, they were able to keep a werewolf in check. I doubt whether any Hogwarts students ever found out more about the Hogwarts grounds and Hogsmeade than we did...And that's how we came to write the Marauder's Map, and sign it with our nicknames. Catherine is Miffy. Sirius is Padfoot. Peter is Wormtail. James was Prongs."

"What sort of animal—" Harry began, but Hermione cut him off. "That was still really dangerous! Running around in the dark with a werewolf! What if you'd given the others the slip, and bitten somebody?"

"A thought that still haunts me," said Lupin heavily. "And there were near misses, many of them. We laughed about them afterwards. We were young, thoughtless—carried away with our own cleverness."

"I sometimes felt guilty about betraying Dumbledore's trust, of course...he had admitted me to Hogwarts when no other headmaster would have done so, and he had no idea I was breaking the rules he had set down for my own and others' safety. He never knew I had led four fellow students into becoming Animagi illegally. But I always managed to forget my guilty feelings every time we sat down to plan our next month's adventure. And I haven't changed..."

Lupin's face had hardened, and there was self-disgust in his voice. "All this year, I have been battling with myself, wondering whether I should tell Dumbledore that Sirius was an Animagus. But I didn't do it. Why? Because I was too cowardly. It would have meant admitting that I'd betrayed his trust while I was at school, admitting that I'd led others along with me...and Dumbledore's trust has meant everything to me. He let me into Hogwarts as a boy, and he gave me a job when I have been shunned all my adult life, unable to find paid work because of what I am. And so I convinced myself that Sirius was getting into the school using dark arts he learned from Voldemort, that being an Animagus had nothing to do with it...so, in a way, Snape's been right about me all along. "

"Snape?" said Black harshly, taking his eyes off Scabbers; for the first time in minutes and looking up at Lupin. "What's Snape got to do with it?"

"He's here, Sirius," said Lupin heavily. "He's teaching here as well." He looked up at Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

"Professor Snape was at school with us. He fought very hard against my appointment to the Defense Against the Dark Arts job. He has been telling Dumbledore all year that I am not to be trusted. He has his reasons...you see, Sirius here played a trick on him which nearly killed him, a trick which involved me—"

Black made a derisive noise. "It served him right," he sneered. "Sneaking around, trying to find out what we were up to...hoping he could get us expelled..."

"Severus was very interested in where I went every month." Lupin told Harry, Drew, Damien, Ron, and Hermione. "We were in the same year, you know, and we—er—didn't like each other very much. He especially disliked James. Jealous, I think, of James's talent on the Quidditch field...anyway Snape had seen me crossing the grounds with Madam Pomfrey one evening as she led me toward the Whomping Willow to transform. Sirius thought it would be—er—amusing, to tell Snape all he had to do was prod the knot on the tree trunk with a long stick, and he'd be able to get in after me. Well, of course, Snape tried it—if he'd got as far as this house, he'd have met a fully grown werewolf—but your father, who'd heard what Sirius had done, went after Snape and pulled him back, at great risk to his life...Snape glimpsed me, though, at the end of the tunnel. He was forbidden by Dumbledore to tell anybody, but from that time on he knew what I was..."

"So that's why Snape doesn't like you," said Harry slowly, "because he thought you were in on the joke?" "That's right," sneered a cold voice from the wall behind Lupin.

Severus Snape was pulling off the Invisibility Cloak, his wand pointing directly at Lupin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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	17. A Sirius Matter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Black is innocent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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Hermione screamed. Black leapt to his feet. Drew felt as though The Source had resurrected. 

"I found this at the base of the Whomping Willow," said Snape, throwing the cloak aside, careful to keep this wand pointing directly at Lupin's chest. "Very useful, Potter, I thank you..."

Snape was slightly breathless, but his face was full of suppressed triumph. "You're wondering, perhaps, how I knew you were here?" he said, his eyes glittering. 

"I've just been to your office, Lupin. You forgot to take your potion tonight, so I took a gobletful along. And very lucky I did...lucky for me, I mean. Lying on your desk was a certain map. One glance at it told me all I needed to know. I saw you running along this passageway and out of sight."

"Severus—" Lupin began, but Snape overrode him. "I've told the headmaster again and again that you're helping your old friend Black into the castle, Lupin, and here's the proof. Not even I dreamed you would have the nerve to use this old place as your hideout—" 

"Severus, you're making a mistake," said Lupin urgently. "You haven't heard everything—I can explain—Sirius is not here to kill Harry—" 

"Two more for Azkaban tonight," said Snape, his eyes now gleaming fanatically. "I shall be interested to see how Dumbledore takes this...He was quite convinced you were harmless, you know, Lupin...a tame werewolf—" 

"You fool," said Lupin softly. "Is a schoolboy grudge worth putting an innocent man back inside Azkaban?"

BANG! Thin, snakelike cords burst from the end of Snape's wand and twisted themselves around Lupin's mouth, wrists, and ankles; he overbalanced and fell to the floor, unable to move. 

With a roar of rage, Black started toward Snape, but Snape pointed his wand straight between Black's eyes. "Give me a reason," he whispered. "Give me a reason to do it, and I swear I will."

Black stopped dead. It would have been impossible to say which face showed more hatred. Damien was just about to sent Snape flying to the wall when Snape pointed his wand at him. 

"Don't you even try to do anything, Halliwell," said Snape as his eyes fell on Damien. Damien gulped as Snape told him to stand next to Drew. Snape then pointed his wand back at Black. Drew glanced around at Harry, Ron and Hermione. 

Harry stood there, paralyzed, not knowing what to do or whom to believe. Ron looked just as confused as he did, still fighting to keep hold on the struggling Scabbers. 

Hermione, however, took an uncertain step toward Snape and said, in a very breathless voice, "Professor Snape—it wouldn't hurt to hear what they've got to say, w-would it?"

"Miss Granger, you are already facing suspension from this school," Snape spat. "You, Potter, Weasley and two Halliwell are out-of-bounds, in the company of a convicted murderer and a werewolf. For once in your life, hold your tongue."

"But if—if there was a mistake—" "KEEP QUIET, YOU STUPID GIRL!" Snape shouted, looking suddenly quite deranged. "DON'T TALK ABOUT WHAT YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND!" 

A few sparks shot out of the end of his wand, which was still pointed at Black's face. Hermione fell silent. "Stupid girl? You are the one who is stupid!" shouted Drew. 

"What did you just say?" said Snape as he stared at Drew. If looks could kill, Drew would be dead by now. "You are just like your arrogant mother," 

Drew and Damien clenched their fists. "SHE'S NOT ARROGANT!" Drew roared with rage. "SHE IS THE NICEST MOM IN THE WORLD!" 

"SILENCE!" "DON'T SILENCE ME! YOU'RE NOT EVEN MY DAD!" There was a long pause. Damien looked as though he could breathe fire; Harry, Hermione and Ron were glaring at Snape. 

Snape then turned to Black. "Vengeance is very sweet," Snape breathed at Black. "How I hoped I would be the one to catch you..."

"The joke's on you again, Severus," Black snarled. "As long as this boy brings his rat up to the castle—" he jerked his head at Ron. "—I'll come quietly..."

"Up to the castle?" said Snape silkily. "I don't think we need to go that far. All I have to do is call the Dementors once we get out of the Willow. They'll be very pleased to see you, Black...pleased enough to give you a little kiss, I daresay...I—" 

What little color there was in Black's face left it. "You-you've got to hear me out," he croaked. "The rat—look at the rat—" But there was a mad glint in Snape's eyes that Drew had never seen before. He seemed beyond reason.

"Come on, all of you," he said. He clicked his fingers, and the ends of the cords that bound Lupin flew to his hands. "I'll drag the werewolf. Perhaps the Dementors will have a kiss for him too—" 

Before he knew what he was doing, Harry had crossed the room in three strides and blocked the door. "Get out of the way, Potter, you're in enough trouble already," snarled Snape. "If I hadn't been here to save your skin—" 

"Professor Lupin could have killed me about a hundred times this year," Harry said. "I've been alone with him loads of times, having defense lessons against the Dementors. If he was helping Black, why didn't he just finish me off then?"

"Don't ask me to fathom the way a werewolf's mind works," hissed Snape. "Get out of the way, Potter." "YOU'RE PATHETIC!" Harry yelled. "JUST BECAUSE THEY MADE A FOOL OF YOU AT SCHOOL YOU WON'T EVEN LISTEN—"

"SILENCE! I WILL NOT BE SPOKEN TO LIKE THAT!" Snape shrieked, looking madder than ever. "Like father, like son, Potter! I have just saved your neck; you should be thanking me on bended knee! You would have been well served if he'd killed you! You'd have died like your father, too arrogant to believe you might be mistaken in Black—now get out of the way, or I will make you. GET OUT OF THE WAY, POTTER!"

Drew made up his mind in a split second. Before Snape could take even one step toward him, Drew had raised his wand. 

"Expelliarmus!" he yelled—except that his wasn't the only voice that shouted. There was a blast that made the door rattle on its hinges; Snape was lifted off his feet and slammed into the wall, then slid down it to the floor, a trickle of blood oozing from under his hair. He had been knocked out.

Drew looked around. Both Ron and Hermione had tried to disarm Snape at exactly the same moment. Harry and Damien also had tried to disarm Snape too. 

Snape's wand soared in a high arc and landed on the bed next to Crookshanks and Dolores. "You shouldn't have done that," said Black, looking at Harry. "You should have left him to me..."

"Don't be silly, Black—er—I mean, Sirius," said Drew. "We attacked a teacher...We attacked a teacher..." Hermione whimpered, staring at the lifeless Snape with frightened eyes. "Oh, we're going to be in so much trouble—"

Lupin was struggling against his bonds. Black bent down quickly and untied him. Lupin straightened up, rubbing his arms where the ropes had cut into them.

"Thank you, Harry," he said. "I'm still not saying I believe you," he told Lupin. "Then it's time we offered you some proof," said Lupin. "You, boy—give me Peter, please. Now."

Ron clutched Scabbers closer to his chest. "Come off it," he said weakly. "Are you trying to say he broke out of Azkaban just to get his hands on Scabbers? I mean..."

He looked up at Harry, Drew and Hermione for support, "Okay, say Pettigrew could turn into a rat—there are millions of rats—how's he supposed to know which one he is after if he was locked up in Azkaban?"

"You know, Sirius, that's a fair question," said Lupin, turning to Black and frowning slightly. "How did you find out where he was?"

Black put one of his claw-like hands inside his robes and took out a crumpled piece of paper, which he smoothed flat and held out to show the others.

It was the photograph of Ron and his family that had appeared in the Daily Prophet the previous summer, and there, on Ron's shoulder, was Scabbers.

"How did you get this?" Lupin asked Black, thunderstruck. "Fudge," said Black. "When he came to inspect Azkaban last year, he gave me his paper. And there was Peter, on the front page on this boy's shoulder...I knew him at once...how many times had I seen him transform? And the caption said the boy would be going back to Hogwarts...to where Harry was..."

"My God," said Lupin softly, staring from Scabbers to the picture in the paper and back again. "His front paw..." "What about it?" said Ron defiantly.

"He's got a toe missing," said Black. "Of course," Lupin breathed. "So simple...so brilliant...he cut it off himself?"

"Just before he transformed," said Black. "When I cornered him, he yelled for the whole street to hear that I'd betrayed Lily and James. Then, before I could curse him, he blew apart the street with the wand behind his back, killed everyone within twenty feet of himself—and sped down into the sewer with the other rats..."

"Didn't you ever hear, Ron?" said Lupin. "The biggest bit of Peter they found was his finger." "Look, Scabbers probably had a fight with another rat or something! He's been in my family for ages, right—" 

"Twelve years, in fact," said Lupin. "Didn't you ever wonder why he was living so long?" "We—we've been taking good care of him!" said Ron.

"Not looking too good at the moment, though, is he?" said Lupin. "I'd guess he's been losing weight ever since he heard Sirius was on the loose again..."

"He's been scared of that mad cat!" said Ron, nodding toward Crookshanks, who was still purring on the bed next to Dolores. 

But Scabbers had been looking ill before he met Crookshanks... ever since Ron's return from Egypt...since the time when Black had escaped...

"This cat isn't mad," said Black hoarsely. He reached out a bony hand and stroked Crookshanks's fluffy head. "He's the most intelligent of his kind I've ever met. He recognized Peter for what he was right away. And when he met me, he knew I was no dog. It was a while before he trusted me...finally, I managed to communicate to him what I was after, and he's been helping me..."

"What do you mean?" breathed Hermione. "He tried to bring Peter to me, but couldn't...so he stole the passwords into Gryffindor Tower for me...As I understand it, he took them from a boy's bedside table..."

"So it wasn't Neville's fault then," said Drew thoughtfully. "But Peter got wind of what was going on and ran for it." croaked Black. "This cat—Crookshanks, did you call him?—told me Peter had left blood on the sheets...I supposed he bit himself...Well, faking his own death had worked once."

"What about Dolores?" asked Drew as he looked at the lazy cat, who was stretching her body on the bed. 

"Oh, she's a tough one," said Black, chuckling. "When I tried to communicate with her, she ran away so I told Crookshanks to talk to her...but...when he came back, he told me that Dolores scratched him," 

"Why?" said Hermione slowly. "He tried to flirt with her," Drew, Damien and Ron snorted; Hermione gave a disapproving look at her cat. 

"A few months later, Crookshanks and I finally gained her trust." said Black. "Anyways, why did Pettigrew fake his death?" Harry said furiously. "Because he knew you were about to kill him like you killed my parents!"

"No," said Lupin, "Harry—" "And now you've come to finish him off!" "Yes, I have," said Black, with an evil look at Scabbers. "Then I should've let Snape take you!" Harry shouted.

"Harry," said Lupin hurriedly, "don't you see? All this time we've thought Sirius betrayed your parents, and Peter tracked him down—but it was the other way around, don't you see? Peter betrayed your mother and father—Sirius tracked Peter down—" 

"THAT'S NOT TRUE!" Harry yelled. "HE WAS THEIR SECRET-KEEPER! HE SAID SO BEFORE YOU TURNED UP. HE SAID HE KILLED THEM!"

He was pointing at Black, who shook his head slowly; the sunken eyes were suddenly over bright.

"Harry...I as good as killed them," he croaked. "I persuaded Lily and James to change to Peter at the last moment, persuaded them to use him as Secret-Keeper instead of me...I'm to blame, I know it... The night they died, I'd arranged to check on Peter, make sure he was still safe, but when I arrived at his hiding place, he'd gone. Yet there was no sign of a struggle. It didn't feel right. I was scared. I set out for your parents' house straight away. And when I saw their house, destroyed, and their bodies...I realized what Peter must've done...what I'd done..."

His voice broke. He turned away. "Enough of this," said Lupin, and there was a steely note in his voice Harry had never heard before. "There's one certain way to prove what really happened. Ron, give me that rat."

"What are you going to do with him if I give him to you?" Ron asked Lupin tensely. "Force him to show himself," said Lupin. "If he really is a rat, it won't hurt him."

Ron hesitated. Then at long last, he held out Scabbers and Lupin took him. Scabbers began to squeak without stopping, twisting and turning, his tiny black eyes bulging in his head. "Ready, Sirius?" said Lupin.

Black had already retrieved Snape's wand from the bed. He approached Lupin and the struggling rat, and his wet eyes suddenly seemed to be burning in his face.

"Together?" he said quietly. "I think so", said Lupin, holding Scabbers tightly in one hand and his wand in the other. "On the count of three. One—two—THREE!"

A flash of blue-white light erupted from both wands; for a moment, Scabbers was frozen in midair, his small gray form twisting madly—Ron yelled—the rat fell and hit the floor. There was another blinding flash of light and then—

It was like watching a speeded-up film of a growing tree. A head was shooting upward from the ground; limbs were sprouting; a moment later, a man was standing where Scabbers had been, cringing and wringing his hands. 

Crookshanks and Dolores were spitting and snarling on the bed; the hair on their backs were standing up.

He was a very short man, hardly taller than Harry, Drew and Hermione. His thin, colorless hair was unkempt and there was a large bald patch on top. 

He had the shrunken appearance of a plump man who has lost a lot of weight in a short time. His skin looked grubby, almost like Scabbers's fur, and something of the rat lingered around his pointed nose and his very small, watery eyes. 

He looked around at them all, his breathing fast and shallow. Drew saw his eyes dart to the door and back again.

"Well, hello, Peter," said Lupin pleasantly, as though rats frequently erupted into old school friends around him. "Long time, no see."

"S—Sirius...R—Remus..." Even Pettigrew's voice was squeaky. Again, his eyes darted toward the door. "My friends...my old friends..."

Black's wand arm rose, but Lupin seized him around the wrist, gave him a warning took, then turned again to Pettigrew, his voice light and casual.

"We've been having a little chat, Peter, about what happened the night Lily and James died. You might have missed the finer points while you were squeaking around down there on the bed—" 

"Remus," gasped Pettigrew, and Harry could see beads of sweat breaking out over his pasty face, "you don't believe him, do you...? He tried to kill me, Remus..."

"So we've heard," said Lupin, more coldly. "I'd like to clear up one or two little matters with you, Peter, if you'll be so—"

"He's come to try and kill me again!" Pettigrew squeaked suddenly, pointing at Black, and Harry saw that he used his middle finger, because his index was missing. "He killed Lily and James and now he's going to kill me too...You've got to help me, Remus..."

Black's face looked more skull-like than ever as he stared at Pettigrew with his fathomless eyes. "No one's going to try and kill you until we've sorted a few things out," said Lupin.

"Sorted things out?" squealed Pettigrew, looking wildly about him once more, eyes taking in the boarded windows and, again, the only door. "I knew he'd come after me! I knew he'd be back for me! I've been waiting for this for twelve years!"

"You knew Sirius was going to break out of Azkaban?" said Lupin, his brow furrowed. "When nobody has ever done it before?"

"He's got dark powers the rest of us can only dream of!" Pettigrew shouted shrilly. "How else did he get out of there? I suppose He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named taught him a few tricks!"

Black started to laugh, a horrible, mirthless laugh that filled the whole room. "Voldemort, teach me tricks?" he said.

Pettigrew flinched as though Black had brandished a whip at him. "What, scared to hear your old master's name?" said Black. "I don't blame you, Peter. His lot aren't very happy with you, are they?"

"Don't know what you mean, Sirius—" muttered Pettigrew, his breathing faster than ever. His whole face was shining with sweat now.

"You haven't been hiding from me for twelve years," said Black. "You've been hiding from Voldemort's old supporters. I heard things in Azkaban, Peter...they all think you're dead, or you'd have to answer to them...I've heard them screaming all sorts of things in their sleep. Sounds like they think the double-crosser double-crossed them. Voldemort went to the Potters' on your information. . . and Voldemort met his downfall there. And not all Voldemort's supporters ended up in Azkaban, did they? There are still plenty out here, biding their time, pretending they've seen the error of their ways. If they ever got wind that you were still alive, Peter—"

"Don't know...what you're talking about..." said Pettigrew again, more shrilly than ever. He wiped his face on his sleeve and looked up at Lupin. "You don't believe this—this madness, Remus—"

"I must admit, Peter, I have difficulty in understanding why an innocent man would want to spend twelve years as a rat," said Lupin evenly.

"Innocent, but scared!" squealed Pettigrew. "If Voldemort's supporters were after me, it was because I put one of their best men in Azkaban—the spy, Sirius Black!"

Black's face contorted. "How dare you," he growled, sounding suddenly like the bearsized dog he had been. "I, a spy for Voldemort? When did I ever sneak around people who were stronger and more powerful than myself? But you, Peter—I'll never understand why I didn't see you were the spy from the start. You always liked big friends who'd look after you, didn't you? It used to be us... me and Remus...and Catherine...and James..."

Pettigrew wiped his face again; he was almost panting for breath. "Me, a spy... must be out of your mind...never...don't know how you can say such a—"

"Lily and James only made you Secret-Keeper because I suggested it," Black hissed, so venomously that Pettigrew took a step backward. "I thought it was the perfect plan...a bluff... Voldemort would be sure to come after me, would never dream they'd use a weak, talentless thing like you...It must have been the finest moment of your miserable life, telling Voldemort you could hand him the Potters."

Pettigrew was muttering distractedly; Harry caught words like "far-fetched" and "lunacy," but he couldn't help paying more attention to the ashen color of Pettigrew's face and the way his eyes continued to dart toward the windows and door.

"Professor Lupin?" said Hermione timidly. "Can—can I say something?" "Certainly, Hermione," said Lupin courteously.

"Well—Scabbers—I mean, this—this man—he's been sleeping in Harry's dormitory for three years. If he's working for You-Know-Who, how come he never tried to hurt Harry before now?"

"There!" said Pettigrew shrilly, pointing at Ron with his maimed hand. "Thank you! You see, Remus? I have never hurt a hair of Harry's head! Why should I?"

"I'll tell you why," said Black. "Because you never did anything for anyone unless you could see what was in it for you. Voldemort's been in hiding for fifteen years, they say he's half dead. You weren't about to commit murder right under Albus Dumbledore's nose, for a wreck of a wizard who'd lost all of his power, were you? You'd want to be quite sure he was the biggest bully in the playground before you went back to him, wouldn't you? Why else did you find a wizard family to take you in? Keeping an ear out for news, weren't you, Peter? Just in case your old protector regained strength, and it was safe to rejoin him..."

Pettigrew opened his mouth and closed it several times. He seemed to have lost the ability to talk. "Er—Mr. Black—Sirius?" said Hermione.

Black jumped at being addressed like this and stared at Hermione as though he had never seen anything quite like her. "If you don't mind me asking, how—how did you get out of Azkaban, if you didn't use Dark Magic?"

"Thank you!" gasped Pettigrew, nodding frantically at her. "Exactly! Precisely what I—"

But Lupin silenced him with a look. Black was frowning slightly at Hermione, but not as though he were annoyed with her. He seemed to be pondering his answer.

"I don't know how I did it," he said slowly. "I think the only reason I never lost my mind is that I knew I was innocent. That wasn't a happy thought, so the Dementors couldn't suck it out of me...but it kept me sane and knowing who I am...helped me keep my powers... so when it all became...too much...I could transform in my cell... become a dog. Dementors can't see, you know..."

He swallowed. "They feel their way toward people by feeding off their emotions...They could tell that my feelings were less—less human, less complex when I was a dog...but they thought, of course, that I was losing my mind like everyone else in there, so it didn't trouble them. But I was weak, very weak, and I had no hope of driving them away from me without a wand..."

"But then I saw Peter in that picture...I realized he was at Hogwarts with Harry...perfectly positioned to act, if one hint reached his ears that the Dark Side was gathering strength again..."

Pettigrew was shaking his head, mouthing noiselessly, but staring all the while at Black as though hypnotized.

"...Ready to strike at the moment he could be sure of allies...and to deliver the last Potter to them. if he gave them Harry, who'd dare say he'd betrayed Lord Voldemort? He'd be welcomed back with honors..."

"So you see, I had to do something. I was the only one who knew Peter was still alive..."

"It was as if someone had lit a fire In my head, and the Dementors couldn't destroy it...It wasn't a happy feeling...it was an obsession... but it gave me strength, it cleared my mind. So, one night when they opened my door to bring food, I slipped past them as a dog... It's so much harder for them to sense animal emotions that they were confused...I was thin, very thin...thin enough to slip through the bars...I swam as a dog back to the mainland...I journeyed north and slipped into the Hogwarts grounds as a dog. I've been living in the forest ever since, except when I came to watch the Quidditch, of course. You fly as well as your father did, Harry and you are a great Chaser, Drew..." Drew smiled. 

He looked at Harry, who did not look away. "Believe me," croaked Black. "Believe me, Harry. I never betrayed James and Lily. I would have died before I betrayed them." Throat too tight to speak, he nodded. "No!"

Pettigrew had fallen to his knees as though Harry's nod had been his own death sentence. He shuffled forward on his knees, groveling, his hands clasped in front of him as though praying.

"Sirius—it's me...it's Peter...your friend...you wouldn't—" Black kicked out and Pettigrew recoiled. "There's enough filth on my robes without you touching them," said Black.

"Remus!" Pettigrew squeaked, turning to Lupin instead, writhing imploringly in front of him. "You don't believe this—wouldn't Sirius have told you they'd changed the plan?"

"Not if he thought I was the spy, Peter," said Lupin. "I assume that's why you didn't tell me, Sirius?" he said casually over Pettigrew's head.

"Forgive me, Remus," said Black. "Not at all, Padfoot, old friend," said Lupin, who was now rolling up his sleeves. "And will you, in turn, forgive me for believing you were the spy?"

"Of course," said Black, and the ghost of a grin flitted across his gaunt face. He, too, began rolling up his sleeves. "Shall we kill him together?"

"Yes, I think so," said Lupin grimly. "You wouldn't...you won't..." gasped Pettigrew. And he scrambled around to Ron. "Ron...haven't I been a good friend...a good pet? You won't let them kill me, Ron, will you...you're on my side, aren't you?"

But Ron was staring at Pettigrew with the utmost revulsion. "I let you sleep in my bed!" he said. "Kind boy...kind master..." Pettigrew crawled toward Ron. "You won't let them do it...I was your rat...I was a good pet..."

"If you made a better rat than a human, it's not much to boast about, Peter," said Black harshly. Ron, going still paler with pain, wrenched his broken leg out of Pettigrew's reach.

Pettigrew turned on his knees, staggered forward, and seized the hem of Hermione's robes.

"Sweet girl...clever girl...you—you won't let them...help me..." Hermione pulled her robes out of Pettigrew's clutching hands and backed away against the wall, looking horrified.

Pettigrew knelt, trembling uncontrollably, and turned his head slowly toward Drew and Damien. "Brave boys...smart boys, you both don't want to be a murderer, do you? If you truly are your mother's sons, please have mercy. Speaking of your mother, how is she?" "She's dead," said Drew coldly as he kicked Pettigrew's dirty face. 

Bleeding, Pettigrew turned to Harry. "Harry...Harry...you look just like your father...just like him..."

"HOW DARE YOU SPEAK TO HARRY?" roared Black. "HOW DARE YOU FACE HIM? HOW DARE YOU TALK ABOUT JAMES IN FRONT OF HIM?"

"Harry," whispered Pettigrew, shuffling toward him, hands outstretched. "Harry, James wouldn't have wanted me killed... James would have understood, Harry...he would have shown me mercy. . . "

Both Black and Lupin strode forward, seized Pettigrew's shoulders, and threw him backward onto the floor. He sat there, twitching with terror, staring up at them.

"You sold Lily and James to Voldemort," said Black, who was shaking too. "Do you deny it?" Pettigrew burst into tears. It was horrible to watch, like an oversized, balding baby, cowering on the floor.

"Sirius, Sirius, what could I have done? The Dark Lord...you have no idea...he has weapons you can't imagine... I was scared, Sirius, I was never brave like you and Remus and James. I never meant it to happen...He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named forced me—"

"DON'T LIE!" bellowed Black. "YOU'D BEEN PASSING INFORMATION TO HIM FOR A YEAR BEFORE LILY AND JAMES DIED! YOU WERE HIS SPY!"

"He—he was taking over everywhere!" gasped Pettigrew. "Wh-what was there to be gained by refusing him?"

"What was there to be gained by fighting the most evil wizard who has ever existed?" said Black, with a terrible fury in his face. "Only innocent lives, Peter!"

"You don't understand!" whined Pettigrew. "He would have killed me, Sirius!" "THEN YOU SHOULD HAVE DIED!" roared Black. "DIED RATHER THAN BETRAY YOUR FRIENDS, AS WE WOULD HAVE DONE FOR YOU!"

Black and Lupin stood shoulder to shoulder, wands raised. "You should have realized," said Lupin quietly, "if Voldemort didn't kill you, we would. Good-bye, Peter."

Hermione covered her face with her hands and turned to the wall. "NO/DON'T!" Harry and Drew yelled. They ran forward, placing himself in front Pettigrew, facing the wands. "You can't kill him," Harry said breathlessly. "You can't."

Black and Lupin both looked staggered. "Harry, this piece of vermin is the reason you have no parents," Black snarled. "This cringing bit of filth would have seen you die too, without turning a hair. You heard him. His own stinking skin meant more to him than your whole family."

"I know," Harry panted. "We'll take him up to the castle. We'll hand him over to the Dementors...He can go to Azkaban...but don't kill him."

"Harry!" gasped Pettigrew, and he flung his arms around Harry's knees. "You—thank you—it's more than I deserve—thank you—" 

"Get off him," Drew spat, kicking him in the stomach. "We're not doing this for you. We're doing it because—I don't reckon my dad would've wanted them to become killers—just for you." said Harry. 

No one moved or made a sound except Pettigrew, whose breath was coming in wheezes as he clutched his chest. Black and Lupin were looking at each other. Then, with one movement, they lowered their wands.

"You're the only person who has the right to decide, Harry," said Black. "But think...think what he did..." "He can go to Azkaban," Harry repeated. "If anyone deserves that place, he does..."

Pettigrew was still wheezing behind him. "Very well," said Lupin. "Stand aside, both of you," Harry and Drew hesitated. "I'm going to tie him up," said Lupin. "That's all, I swear."

Harry and Drew stepped out of the way. Thin cords shot from Lupin's wand this time, and next moment, Pettigrew was wriggling on the floor, bound and gagged.

"But if you transform, Peter," growled Black, his own wand pointing at Pettigrew too, "we will kill you. You agree, Harry? Drew?" Drew looked down at the pitiful figure on the floor and nodded so that Pettigrew could see him.

"Right," said Lupin, suddenly businesslike. "Ron, I can't mend bones nearly as well as Madam Pomfrey, so I think it's best if we just strap your leg up until we can get you to the hospital wing."

He hurried over to Ron, bent down, tapped Ron's leg with his wand, and muttered, "Ferula." Bandages spun up Ron's leg, strapping it tightly to a splint. Lupin helped him to his feet; Ron put his weight gingerly on the leg and didn't wince.

"That's better," he said. "Thanks," "What about Professor Snape?" said Hermione in a small voice, looking down at Snape's prone figure.

"There's nothing seriously wrong with him," said Lupin, bending over Snape and checking his pulse. "You were just a little—overenthusiastic. Still out cold. Er—perhaps it will be best if we don't revive him until we're safety back in the castle. We can take him like this..."

"Ouch, what's going on—" It was Dylan, he had woken up and went pale when he saw Black. "S-S-Sirius B-Black—" And Dylan fainted once again. 

He muttered awkwardly, "Er—Mobilicorpus." As though invisible strings were tied to Snape's and Dylan's wrists, neck, and knees, they were pulled into a standing position, head still lolling unpleasantly, like a grotesque puppet. 

He hung a few inches above the ground, his limp feet dangling. Lupin picked up the Invisibility Cloak and tucked it safely into his pocket.

"And two of us should be chained to this," said Black, nudging Pettigrew with his toe. "Just to make sure." "I'll do it," said Lupin. "And me," said Ron savagely, limping forward.

Black conjured heavy manacles from thin air; soon Pettigrew was upright again, left arm chained to Lupin's right, right arm to Ron's left. Ron's face was set. 

He seemed to have taken Scabbers's true identity as a personal insult. Crookshanks and Dolores leapt lightly off the bed and led the way out of the room, their tails held jauntily high.

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	18. Good

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drew and Damien had made up. Drew conjured two Patronus in a day, what a record!

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Drew had never been part of a stranger group. Crookshanks and Dolores led the way down the stairs; Lupin, Pettigrew, and Ron went next, looking like entrants in a six-legged race.

Next came Damien, followed by Professor Snape and Dylan, who were drifting creepily along, their toes hitting each stair as they descended, held up by his own wand, which was being pointed at him by Sirius. Harry, Drew and Hermione brought up the rear.

Getting back into the tunnel was difficult. Lupin, Pettigrew, and Ron had to turn sideways to manage it; Lupin still had Pettigrew covered with his wand.

Drew could see them edging awkwardly along the tunnel in single file. Crookshanks and Dolores were still in the lead.

Drew saw Harry went right after Black, who was still making Snape and Dylan drift along ahead of them; he kept bumping Snape's lolling head on the low ceiling.

Drew had the impression Black was making no effort to prevent this since Snape was taller.

"You know what this means?" Drew heard Black said abruptly to Harry as they made their slow progress along the tunnel. "Turning Pettigrew in?"

"You're free," said Harry. "Yes..." said Black. "But I'm also—I don't know if anyone ever told you—I'm your godfather." "Yeah, I knew that," said Harry.

"Well...your parents appointed me your guardian," said Black stiffly. "If anything happened to them..." Drew raised his eyebrows at Black. Did Black mean what he thought he meant?

"I'll understand, of course, if you want to stay with your aunt and uncle," said Black. "But...well...think about it. Once my name's cleared...if you wanted a...a different home..."

"What—live with you?" he said, accidentally cracking his head on a bit of rock protruding from the ceiling. "Leave the Dursleys?" "Of course, I thought you wouldn't want to," said Black quickly. "I understand, I just thought I'd—"

"Are you insane?" said Harry, his voice easily as croaky as Black's. "Of course I want to leave the Dursleys! Have you got a house? When can I move in?"

Black turned right around to look at him; Snape's head was scraping the ceiling but Black didn't seem to care. "You want to?" he said. "You mean it?" "Yeah, I mean it!" said Harry.

Black's gaunt face broke into the first true smile Drew had seen upon it. Drew smiled so wide his cheek hurt. He couldn't believe Harry will have a proper, loving paternal figure.

Black then turned around to see Drew was still smiling. "Drew, Damien, come here," Drew and Damien awkwardly walked toward Black.

"You two are Catherine's sons, aren't you?" The two Halliwell brothers nodded. "Well, perhaps I heard it wrong but I think you just said Cath is...dead," said Black hesitantly.

"You heard it right, our Mom is dead," said Damien gloomily. "Oh—er—I'm sorry to hear that," There was an awkward silence.

"I'm sorry," said Damien so sudden it made Drew jumped. "I'm sorry that I use my power on you that day," "Damien—" "I don't know what had come over me, I didn't mean to say—"

"That I'm a bad brother," Drew cut Damien off. "That's true. I shouldn't have been judgemental to you." Damien hesitated and hugged his oldest brother.

"So, we're good now?" Drew nodded pleasantly, ruffling Damien's hair. "Anyways, how do you know that we were here?" said Drew, letting go of Damien. "I scried for you and the map showed that you were here,"

"Scry? Damien, did you use my things without my permission," said Drew, starting to feel a bit angry. "Hey, you say we are good," excused Damien, chuckling awkwardly.

"Drew, I'm sorry too," said Harry. "What did you do?" "I shouted at you, don't you remember?" said Harry, gulping. "Harry, you're angry just now, it's not your fault,"

"Nor you, Sirius," said Drew quickly as he saw a guilty look hanging onto Black's face. "No, it's my fault, if I didn't make that little git the Secret Keeper to the Potters, this wouldn't happen...at all," said Black as he pointed at Pettigrew.

They did not speak again until they had reached the end of the tunnel. Crookshanks and Dolores darted up first; Crookshanks had evidently pressed his paw to the knot on the trunk, because Lupin, Pettigrew, and Ron clambered upward without any sound of savaging branches.

Black saw Snape and Dylan up through the hole, then stood back for Harry, Drew, Damien and Hermione to pass. At last, all of them were out.

The grounds were very dark now; the only light came from the distant windows of the castle. Without a word, they set off.

Pettigrew was still wheezing and occasionally whimpering. Drew's mind was buzzing as he stared at Harry. He was going to leave those horrible Dursleys.

Harry was going to live with Sirius Black, his parents' and Drew's mother's best friend. Drew looked as though he could kiss him...

And he did. Without knowing what he was doing, Drew suddenly kissed him with pride. Harry blushed so red he almost fainted; Sirius raised an eyebrow at the lovebirds.

"You didn't tell me you are a couple," said Black, looking slightly disappointed. Harry and Drew chuckled.

"One wrong move, Peter," said Lupin threateningly ahead. His wand was still pointed sideways at Pettigrew's chest.

Silently they tramped through the grounds, the castle lights growing slowly larger. Snape and Dylan were still drifting weirdly ahead of Black, his chin bumping on Snape's chest. And then—

A cloud shifted. There were suddenly dim shadows on the ground. Their party was bathed in moonlight.

Snape and Dylan collided with Lupin, Pettigrew, and Ron, who had stopped abruptly. Black froze. He flung out one arm to make Harry, Drew, Damien and Hermione stop.

Drew could see Lupin's silhouette. He had gone rigid. Then his limbs began to shake. "Oh, my—" Hermione gasped. "He didn't take his potion tonight! He's not safe!" "Run," Black whispered. "Run. Now."

But Drew couldn't run. Ron was chained to Pettigrew and Lupin. Harry leapt forward but Black caught him around the chest and threw him back. "Leave it to me—RUN!"

There was a terrible snarling noise. Lupin's head was lengthening. So was his body. His shoulders were hunching. Hair was sprouting visibly on his face and hands, which were curling into clawed paws.

Crookshanks's and Dolores's hair were on end again; they were backing away—

As the werewolf reared, snapping its long jaws, Sirius disappeared from Harry's side. He had transformed. The enormous, bearlike dog bounded forward.

As the werewolf wrenched itself free of the manacle binding it, the dog seized it about the neck and pulled it backward, away from Ron and Pettigrew. They were locked, jaw to jaw, claws ripping at each other.

Drew stood, transfixed by the sight. Drew raised his hands and was just about to freeze Lupin when Hermione screamed—

Pettigrew had dived for Lupin's dropped wand. Ron, unsteady on his bandaged leg, fell. There was a bang, a burst of light—and Ron lay motionless on the ground.

Another bang—Crookshanks and Dolores flew into the air and back to the earth in a heap.

"Expelliarmus." Harry yelled, pointing his own wand at Pettigrew; Lupin's wand flew high into the air and out of sight. "Stay where you are!" Harry shouted, running forward.

Too late. Pettigrew had transformed. Drew saw his bald tail whip through the manacle on Ron's outstretched arm and heard a scurrying through the grass.

Drew then shot energybeams from his hands at the grass, hoping it would hit Pettigrew.

There was a howl and a rumbling growl; Drew turned to see the werewolf taking flight; it was galloping into the forest— "Sirius, he's gone, Pettigrew transformed!" Harry yelled.

Black was bleeding; there were gashes across his muzzle and back, but at Harry's words he scrambled up again, and in an instant, the sound of his paws faded to silence as he pounded away across the grounds.

Harry, Drew and Hermione dashed over to Ron while Damien freeze on the spot.

"What did he do to him?" Hermione whispered. Ron's eyes were only half-closed, his mouth hung open; he was definitely alive, they could hear him breathing, but he didn't seem to recognize them. "I don't know..."

Drew looked desperately around. Black and Lupin both gone. . . they had no one but Snape and Dylan for company, still hanging, unconscious, in midair.

"We'd better get them up to the castle and tell someone," said Harry, pushing his hair out of his eyes, trying to think straight. "Come—"

But then, from beyond the range of their vision, they heard a yelping, a whining: a dog in pain... "Sirius," Harry muttered, staring into the darkness. By the sound of it, Black was in trouble—

Harry set off at a run, Hermione, Damien and Drew right behind him. The yelping seemed to be coming from the ground near the edge of the lake. They pelted toward it, and Drew, running flat out, felt the cold without realizing what it must mean—

The yelping stopped abruptly. As they reached the lakeshore, they saw why—Sirius had turned back into a man. He was crouched on all fours, his hands over his head. "Nooo," he moaned. "Nooo... please..."

And then Drew saw them. Dementors, at least a hundred of them, gliding in a black mass around the lake toward them. He spun around, the familiar, icy cold penetrating his insides, fog starting to obscure his vision; more were appearing out of the darkness on every side; they were encircling them...

"Hermione, Drew, Damien, think of something happy!" Harry yelled, raising his wand. The other three also raised their wands.

Drew was blinking furiously to try and clear his vision, shaking his head to rid it of the faint screaming that had started inside it—

_'Harry is going to have a happy life...We won the House Cup...We won the Quidditch Cup...Sirius Black is innocent...'_

He forced himself to think of everything good, his moments with his family, his lovely time with Harry, and then he began to chant: _"Expecto patronum! Expecto patronum!"_

Black gave a shudder, rolled over, and lay motionless on the ground, pale as death. _"Expecto patronum! Expecto Patronum!_ " yelled Drew.

"Expecto patronum! Hermione, Damien, help us! Expecto patronum!" shouted Harry. _"Expecto—"_ Hermione and Damien whispered, _"expecto—expecto—"_

But they couldn't do it. The Dementors were closing in, barely ten feet from them. They formed a solid wall around Harry, Drew, Damien and Hermione, and were getting closer...

 _"EXPECTO PATRONUM!"_ Harry yelled, trying to blot the screaming from his ears. _"EXPECTO PATRONUM!"_

A thin wisp of silver escaped his wand and hovered like mist before him. At the same moment, Drew felt Hermione and his brother collapse next to him. It was Harry and him now...

 _'Think! Think! Think!_ ' Drew thought desperately. _'Christmas! Harry! Sirius! Damien!"_

 _"Expecto Patronus! EXPECTO—"_ Drew fell to his feet and Harry caught him. _"Drew! Expecto—expecto patronum—Drew, help me!"_

Lying on Harry's lap, Drew weakly raised his wand and shouted, _"Expecto Patronum! EXPECTO PATRONUM!"_ A phoenix shot out of his wand and it fended off several Dementors.

But the phoenix vanished as soon as it came; Drew had lowered his wand. Fog was clouding his eyes. " _Expecto Patronum_! Drew, do that again! It's working!" shouted Harry.

"I can't, Harry," croaked Drew weakly. "Drew, just one more, one more, please— _Expecto Patronum_!" With a huge effort, he fought to remember—his fourth Christmas with his whole family—Harry and him will live happily ever after—they will got married—have kids (somehow, Idk. It's magic). " _Expecto patronum_!" Drew gasped.

Another phoenix shot out of his wand. The phoenix flew across the lake and warded off some Dementors. Drew lowered his wand and the phoenix disappeared.

"Drew! _Expecto Patronum_! Drew, please do it again. _Expecto Patronu_ m!" But Drew couldn't move, his body was too weak to move, he let go of his wand and trying not to faint.

"Drew! _Expecto Patronum_!" By the feeble light of Harry's formless Patronus, Drew saw a Dementor halt, very close to them. It couldn't walk through the cloud of silver mist Harry had conjured.

A dead, slimy hand slid out from under the cloak. It made a gesture as though to sweep the Patronus aside. "No—no—" Harry gasped. "He's innocent.. _.expecto—expecto patronum—"_

He could feet them watching them, hear their rattling breath like an evil wind around him. "Harry..." mumbled Drew dryly.

Drew grabbed his wand but two Dementors were now in front of Drew and Harry. Then they raised both its rotting hands—and lowered its hood.

Where there should have been eyes, there was only thin, gray scabbed skin, stretched blankly over empty sockets. But there was a mouth...a gaping, shapeless hole, sucking the air with the sound of a death rattle.

A paralyzing terror filled Drew so that he couldn't move or speak. Harry's Patronus flickered and died.

White fog was blinding him. _"Expecto Patronum! Expecto Patronum!"_ yelled Harry. Drew tried to fight with Harry but he was too weak.

He couldn't believe he was weak, he was supposed to be the strongest, he was supposed to be a strong witch and wizard.

As tears running down his cheek, a pair of strong, clammy hands suddenly attached themselves around Drew's neck.

They were forcing his face upward...he could feel its breath...it was going to get rid of him first...he could feel its putrid breath...

His mother was screaming in his ears...She was going to be the last thing he ever heard—

And then, through the fog that was drowning him, he thought he saw a silvery light growing brighter and brighter...

Faceup, too weak to move, sick and shaking, Drew opened his eyes. The Dementor must have released him.

The blinding light was illuminating the grass around him...the screaming had stopped, the cold was ebbing away...

Something was driving the Dementors back...It was circling around him and Black and Hermione...they were leaving...The air was warm again...

With every ounce of strength he could muster, Harry raised his head a few inches and saw an animal amid the light, galloping away across the lake...

Eyes blurred with sweat, Drew tried to make out what it was...It was as bright as a unicorn...Fighting to stay conscious, Drew watched it canter to a halt as it reached the opposite shore.

For a moment, Drew saw, by its brightness, somebody welcoming it back...raising his hand to pat it...someone who looked strangely familiar...but it couldn't be...

"Harry..." said Drew weakly, still lying on Harry's laps. "Drew..." "We're safe," said Drew and he fainted.

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	19. Back to The Future

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Buckbeak is alive 😃

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"Shocking business...shocking...miracle none of them died...never heard the like...by thunder, it was lucky you were there, Snape..." "Thank you, Minister."

"Order of Merlin, Second Class, I'd say. First Class, if I can wangle it!" "Thank you very much indeed, Minister." "Nasty cut you've got there...Black's work, I suppose?"

"As a matter of fact, it was Potter, Weasley, Granger and these two Halliwells, Minister..." "No!"

"Black had bewitched them, I saw it immediately. A Confundus Charm, to judge by their behavior. They seemed to think there was a possibility he was innocent. They weren't responsible for their actions. On the other hand, their interference might have permitted Black to escape...They obviously thought they were going to catch Black single-handed. They've got away with a great deal before now...I'm afraid it's given them a rather high opinion of themselves ...and of course Potter has always been allowed an extraordinary amount of license by the headmaster—"

"Ah, well, Snape...Harry Potter, you know...we've all got a bit of a blind spot where he's concerned."

"And yet—is it good for him to be given so much special treatment? Personally, I try and treat him like any other student. And any other student would be suspended—at the very least—for leading his friends into such danger. Consider, Minister—against all school rules after all the precautions put in place for his protection—out-of-bounds, at night, consorting with a werewolf and a murderer—and I have reason to believe he has been visiting Hogsmeade illegally too—"

"Well, well...we shall see, Snape, we shall see...The boy has undoubtedly been foolish..."

Drew lay listening with his eyes tight shut. He felt very angry, he tried to sit up but he felt sick and stayed still. He felt very groggy. 

The words he was hearing seemed to be traveling very slowly from his ears to his brain, so that it was difficult to understand...His limbs felt like lead; his eyelids too heavy to lift...he wanted to lie here, on this comfortable bed, forever...

"What amazes me most is the behavior of the Dementors...you've really no idea what made them retreat, Snape?" "No, Minister...by the time I had come 'round they were heading back to their positions at the entrances..."

"Extraordinary. And yet Black, and Harry, and the Halliwell, and the girl—" "All unconscious by the time I reached them. I bound and gagged Black, naturally, conjured stretchers, and brought them all straight back to the castle."

There was a pause. Drew clenched his fist and eventually opened his eyes.

Everything was slightly blurred. Somebody had removed his glasses. He was lying in the dark hospital wing. 

At the very end of the ward, he could make out Madam Pomfrey with her back to him, bending over a bed. Drew squinted. Ron's red hair was visible beneath Madam Pomfrey's arm.

Drew looked in front of him and saw Dylan and Damien were lying on the bed, who were sleeping peacefully. 

Drew looked the other way to see Harry also looking at him. His emerald green eyes made Drew feel safe. As moonlight shone the room, they held hands, smiling at each other. 

From the other side of Harry, Drew saw Hermione. Her eyes were open too. She looked petrified, and when she saw that they were awake, Harry pressed a finger to her lips, then pointed to the hospital wing door.

It was ajar, and the voices of Cornelius Fudge and Snape were coming through it from the corridor outside.

Madam Pomfrey now came walking briskly up the dark ward to Harry's bed. Drew turned to look at her. She was carrying the largest block of chocolate he had ever seen in his life. It looked like a small boulder.

"Ah, you're awake!" she said briskly as Drew put on his glasses. She placed the chocolate on Harry's bedside table and began breaking it apart with a small hammer.

"How's Ron?" said Harry, Drew and Hermione together. "He'll live," said Madam Pomfrey grimly. "What about my brothers?" asked Drew. 

"They'll live too, don't worry," assured Madam Pomfrey. "As for you three, you'll be staying here until I'm satisfied you're—Potter, what do you think you're doing?"

Harry was sitting up, putting his glasses back on, and picking up his wand. "I need to see the headmaster," he said.

"Potter," said Madam Pomfrey soothingly, "it's all right. They've got Black. He's locked away upstairs. The Dementors will be performing the kiss any moment now—" 

"WHAT?" Harry jumped up out of bed; Hermione and Drew had done the same. But his shout had been heard in the corridor outside; next second, Cornelius Fudge and Snape had entered the ward.

"Harry, Harry, what's this?" said Fudge, looking agitated. "You should be in bed—has he had any chocolate?" he asked Madam Pomfrey anxiously.

"Minister, listen!" Harry said. "Sirius Black's innocent! Peter Pettigrew faked his own death! We saw him tonight! You can't let the Dementors do that thing to Sirius, he's—" 

But Fudge was shaking his head with a small smile on his face. "Harry, Harry, you're very confused, you've been through a dreadful ordeal, lie back down, now, we've got everything under control..."

"YOU HAVEN'T!" Harry yelled. "YOU'VE GOT THE WRONG MAN!" "Minister, listen, please," Hermione said; Drew and Hermione had hurried to Harry's side and was gazing imploringly into Fudge's face. "I saw him too. It was Ron's rat, he's an Animagus, Pettigrew, I mean, and—"

"You see, Minister?" said Snape. "Confounded, all of them. Black's done a very good job on them..." "WE'RE NOT CONFUNDED!" Harry roared. 

"He's lying!" bellowed Drew, pointing at Snape. "Minister! Professor!" said Madam Pomfrey angrily. "I must insist that you leave. Potter is my patient, and he should not be distressed!"

"I'm not distressed, I'm trying to tell them what happened!" Harry said furiously. "If they'd just listen—"

But Madam Pomfrey suddenly stuffed a large chunk of chocolate into Harry"s mouth; he choked, and she seized the opportunity to force him back onto the bed. "Now, please, Minister, these children need care. Please leave."

Drew was just about to freeze the room when the door opened again. It was Dumbledore. Harry swallowed his mouthful of chocolate with great difficulty and got up again.

"Professor Dumbledore, Sirius Black—" "For heaven's sake!" said Madam Pomfrey hysterically. "Is this a hospital wing or not? Headmaster, I must insist—"

"My apologies, Poppy, but I need a word with Mr. Potter, Mr. Halliwell and Miss Granger," said Dumbledore calmly. "I have just been talking to Sirius Black—"

"I suppose he's told you the same fairy tale he's planted in Potter's mind?" spat Snape. "Something about a rat, and Pettigrew being alive—"

"That, indeed, is Black's story," said Dumbledore, surveying Snape closely through his half-moon spectacles.

"And does my evidence count for nothing?" snarled Snape. "Peter Pettigrew was not in the Shrieking Shack, nor did I see any sign of him on the grounds."

"That was because you were knocked out, Professor!" said Hermione earnestly. "You didn't arrive in time to hear." "Miss Granger, HOLD YOUR TONGUE!"

"Shut up!" yelled Drew, glaring at Snape. "Now, Snape," said Fudge, startled, "the young lady is disturbed in her mind, we must make allowances—"

"I would like to speak to Harry, Drew and Hermione alone," said Dumbledore abruptly. "Cornelius, Severus, Poppy—please leave us."

"Headmaster!" sputtered Madam Pomfrey. "They need treatment, they need rest—" "This cannot wait," said Dumbledore. "I must insist."

Madam Pomfrey pursed her lips and strode away into her office at the end of the ward, slamming the door behind her. Fudge consulted the large gold pocket watch dangling from his waistcoat.

"The Dementors should have arrived by now," he said. "I'll go and meet them. Dumbledore, I'll see you upstairs." He crossed to the door and held it open for Snape, but Snape hadn't moved.

"You surely don't believe a word of Black's story?" Snape whispered, his eyes fixed on Dumbledore's face. "I wish to speak to Harry, Drew and Hermione alone," Dumbledore repeated.

Snape took a step toward Dumbledore. "Sirius Black showed he was capable of murder at the age of sixteen," he breathed. "You haven't forgotten that, Headmaster? You haven't forgotten that he once tried to kill me?" "My memory is as good as it ever was, Severus," said Dumbledore quietly.

Snape turned on his heel and marched through the door Fudge was still holding. It closed behind them, and Dumbledore turned to Harry, Drew and Hermione. They three burst into speech at the same time.

"Professor, Black's telling the truth—we saw Pettigrew—he escaped when Professor Lupin turned into a werewolf—" "—I tried to kill him but I think he got away—" 

"—he's a rat—" "—Pettigrew's front paw, I mean, finger, he cut it off—" "—Pettigrew attacked Ron, it wasn't Sirius—" 

But Dumbledore held up his hand to stem the flood of explanations.

"It is your turn to listen, and I beg you will not interrupt me, because there is very little time," he said quietly. "There is not a shred of proof to support Black's story, except your word—and the word of two thirteen-year-old wizards will not convince anybody. A street full of eyewitnesses swore they saw Sirius murder Pettigrew. I myself gave evidence to the Ministry that Sirius had been the Potters' Secret-Keeper." "Professor Lupin can tell you—" Harry said, unable to stop himself. 

"Professor Lupin is currently deep in the forest, unable to tell anyone anything. By the time he is human again, it will be too late, Sirius will be worse than dead. I might add that werewolves are so mistrusted by most of our kind that his support will count for very little and the fact that he and Sirius are old friends—"

"But—" "Listen to me, Harry. It is too late, you understand me? You must see that Professor Snape's version of events is far more convincing than yours."

"He hates Sirius," Hermione said desperately. "All because of some stupid trick Sirius played on him—"

"Sirius has not acted like an innocent man. The attack on the Fat Lady—entering Gryffindor Tower with a knife—without Pettigrew, alive or dead, we have no chance of overturning Sirius's sentence."

"But you believe us." "Yes, I do," said Dumbledore quietly. "But I have no power to make other men see the truth, or to overrule the Minister of Magic..."

Suddenly, a thought popped into Drew's mind. "What about we use Veritaserum?" "A what?" said Harry, looking confused. "Of course! The truth potion," said Hermione. 

"Unfortunately, I can't do that," said Dumbledore. "Veritaserum is a very powerful truth potion and it is strictly forbidden on students." "What about Legilimens?" 

"Drew, you do remember what I had said about Legilimens last year," said Dumbledore calmly. "you could get mentally injured" 

"I don't care, as long as it can make Sirius a free man I would willingly volunteer myself," said Drew sternly. "Drew, you need to understand, you're just thirteen years old, I can't allow you, I must have your father's permission," Dumbledore told Drew sympathetically. 

Drew stared up into the grave face and felt as though the ground beneath him were falling sharply away. He had grown used to the idea that Dumbledore could solve anything.

He had expected Dumbledore to pull some amazing solution out of the air. But no...their last hope was gone. "What we need," said Dumbledore slowly, and his light blue eyes moved from Harry and Drew to Hermione, "is more time."

"But—" Hermione began. And then her eyes became very round. "OH!" "Now, pay attention," said Dumbledore, speaking very low, and very clearly. "Sirius is locked in Professor Flitwick's office on the seventh floor. Thirteenth window from the right of the West Tower. If all goes well, you will be able to save more than one innocent life tonight. But remember this, both of you: you must not be seen. Miss Granger, you know the law—you know what is at stake...you—must—not—be—seen."

The boys didn't have a clue what was going on. Dumbledore had turned on his heel and looked back as he reached the door.

"I am going to lock you in. It is—" he consulted his watch, "five minutes to midnight. Miss Granger, three turns should do it. Good luck."

"Good luck?" Harry repeated as the door closed behind Dumbledore. "Three turns? What's he talking about? What are we supposed to do?"

But Hermione was fumbling with the neck of her robes, pulling from beneath them a very long, very fine gold chain. "Harry, Drew, come here," she said urgently. "Quick!"

Harry and Drew moved toward her, completely bewildered. She was holding the chain out. He saw a tiny, sparkling hourglass hanging from it. "Here—" 

She had thrown the chain around their necks too. "What will an hourglass do us any good?" asked Drew, completely lost. "Ready?" she said breathlessly.

"What are we doing?" Harry said, looking disoriented. Hermione turned the hourglass over three times.

The dark ward dissolved. Drew had the sensation that he was flying very fast, backward. A blur of colors and shapes rushed past him, his ears were pounding, he tried to freeze the room but it still moving—

And then he felt solid ground beneath his feet, and everything came into focus again—

He was standing next to Hermione in the deserted entrance hall and a stream of golden sunlight was falling across the paved floor from the open front doors. He looked wildly around at Hermione, the chain of the hourglass cutting into his neck.

"Hermione, what—" "In here!" Hermione seized Harry's and Drew's arm and dragged them across the hall to the door of a broom closet; she opened it, pushed them inside among the buckets and mops, then slammed the door behind them.

"What—how—Hermione, what happened?" "We've gone back in time," Hermione whispered, lifting the chain off Harry's and neck in the darkness. "Three hours back..."

Harry then gave his own leg a very hard pinch and he yelped quietly. Drew grinned and pat Harry's back. 

Unlike Harry, Drew had once gone to the past; the year Nineteen Ninty-eight to be precise, Drew met the younger Charmed Ones, Prue, his grandma, Piper, and Phoebe. 

They were all shocked to see him since they aren't use to demons dropping by back in the year...They almost vanquished Drew, but how he gone back to the present, that's another story... 

"But—" Harry began but Hermione cut him off. "Shh! Listen! Someone's coming! I think—I think it might be us!' Hermione had her ear pressed against the cupboard door.

"Footsteps across the hall...yes, I think it's us going down to Hagrid's!" "Are you telling me," Harry whispered, "that we're here in this cupboard and we're out there too?"

"Yes," said Hermione, her ear still glued to the cupboard door. "I'm sure it's us. It doesn't sound like more than four people...and we're walking slowly because we're under the Invisibility Cloak—"

She broke off, still listening intently. "We've gone down the front steps..."

Hermione sat down on an upturned bucket, looking desperately anxious, but Harry wanted a few questions answered. "Where did you get that hourglass thing?"

"It's called a Time-Turner," Hermione whispered, "and I got it from Professor McGonagall on our first day back. I've been using it all year to get to all my lessons. Professor McGonagall made me swear I wouldn't tell anyone. She had to write all sorts of letters to the Ministry of Magic so I could have one. She had to tell them that I was a model student, and that I'd never, ever use it for anything except my studies...I've been turning it back so I could do hours over again, that's how I've been doing several lessons at once, see? But...I don't understand what Dumbledore wants us to do. Why did he tell us to go back three hours? How's that going to help Sirius?"

Drew stared at her shadowy face. "There must be something that happened around now he wants us to change," Harry said slowly. "What happened? We were walking down to Hagrid's three hours ago..."

"This is three hours ago, and we are walking down to Hagrid's," said Hermione. "We just heard ourselves leaving..."

Drew closed his eyes and thought. What they were doing for the past three hours? Then, he realized it. "Dumbledore just said—just said we could save more than one innocent life..." Harry began. 

"Buckbeak!" exclaimed Drew suddenly. "Guys, we have to save Buckbeak!" "But—how will that help Sirius?"

"Dumbledore said—he just told us where the window is—the window of Flitwick's office! Where they've got Sirius locked up! We've got to fly Buckbeak up to the window and rescue Sirius! Sirius can escape on Buckbeak—they can escape together!"

Drew smirked as he mumbled, "You can't have Sirius nor Buckbeak, Death," "What did you say, Drew?" said Harry. "Oh, nothing," 

From what Drew could see of Hermione's face, she looked terrified. "If we manage that without being seen, it'll be a miracle!"

"Well, we've got to try, haven't we?" said Harry. He stood up and pressed his ear against the door. "Doesn't sound like anyone's there...Come on, let's go."

Harry pushed open the closet door. The entrance hall was deserted. As quietly and quickly as they could, they darted out of the closet and down the stone steps.

The shadows were already lengthening, the tops of the trees in the Forbidden Forest gilded once more with gold. "If anyone's looking out of the window—" Hermione squeaked, looking up at the castle behind them.

"We'll run for it," said Harry determinedly. "Straight into the forest, all right? We'll have to hide behind a tree or something and keep a lookout—"

"Okay, but we'll go around by the greenhouses!' said Hermione breathlessly. "We need to keep out of sight of Hagrid's front door, or we'll see us! We must be nearly at Hagrid's by now!"

Still working out what she meant, Drew set off at a sprint, Hermione and Harry behind him. They tore across the vegetable gardens to the greenhouses, paused for a moment behind them, then set off again, fast as they could, skirting around the Whomping Willow, tearing toward the shelter of the forest...

Safe in the shadows of the trees, Harry and Drew turned around; seconds later, Hermione arrived beside them, panting. "Right," she gasped. "We need to sneak over to Hagrid's...keep out of sight, Harry, Drew..."

They made their way silently through the trees, keeping to the very edge of the forest. Then, as they glimpsed the front of Hagrid's house, they heard a knock upon his door. 

They moved quickly behind a wide oak trunk and peered out from either side. Hagrid had appeared in his doorway, shaking and white, looking around to see who had knocked. And Drew heard the other Harry's voice.

"It's us. We're wearing the Invisibility Cloak. Let us in and we can take it off." "Yeh shouldn've come!" Hagrid whispered. He stood back, then shut the door quickly.

"This is the weirdest thing we've ever done," Harry said fervently. "Agreed," said Drew as he nodded in agreement. "Let's move along a bit," Hermione whispered. "We need to get nearer to Buckbeak!"

They crept through the trees until they saw the nervous Hippogriff, tethered to the fence around Hagrid's pumpkin patch. "Now?" Harry whispered.

"No!" said Hermione. "If we steal him now, those Committee people will think Hagrid set him free! We've got to wait until they've seen he's tied outside!"

"That's going to give us about sixty seconds," said Harry. This was starting to seem impossible. At that moment, there was a crash of breaking china from inside Hagrid's cabin.

"That's Hagrid breaking the milk jug," Hermione whispered. "I'm going to find Scabbers in a moment—" Confused about which 'I' Hermione meant, Drew waited impatiently. 

Sure enough, a few minutes later, they heard Hermione's shriek of surprise. "Hermione," said Harry suddenly, "what if we—we just run in there and grab Pettigrew—" 

"No!" said Hermione and Drew in a terrified whisper. "Don't you understand? We're breaking one of the most important wizarding laws! Nobody's supposed to change time, nobody! You heard Dumbledore, if we're seen—" added Hermione. 

"We'd only be seen by ourselves and Hagrid!" "Harry, what do you think you'd do if you saw yourself bursting into Hagrid's house?" said Hermione as Drew got confused again. 

"I'd—I'd think I'd gone mad," said Harry, "or I'd think there was some Dark Magic going on—" "Exactly! You wouldn't understand, you might even attack yourself! Don't you see? Professor McGonagall told me what awful things have happened when wizards have meddled with time...loads of them ended up killing their past or future selves by mistake!" "Okay!" said Harry. "It was just an idea, I just thought—" 

But Hermione nudged him and Drew and pointed toward the castle. Drew moved his head a few inches to get a clear view of the distant front doors.

Dumbledore, Fudge, the old Committee member, and Macnair the executioner were coming down the steps. "We're about to come out!" Hermione breathed.

And sure enough, moments later, Hagrid's back door opened, and Drew saw himself, Harry, Ron, and Hermione walking out of it with Hagrid. 

It was, without a doubt, the strangest sensation of his life, standing behind the tree, and watching himself in the pumpkin patch.

"It's Okay, Beaky, it's okay..." Hagrid said to Buckbeak. Then he turned to Harry, Drew, Ron, and Hermione. "Go on. Get goin'."

"Hagrid, we can't—" "We'll tell them what really happened—" "They can't kill him—" "Go! It's bad enough without you lot in trouble an' all!"

Drew watched the Hermione in the pumpkin patch throw the Invisibility Cloak over him, Harry and Ron. "Go quick. Don' listen..."

There was a knock on Hagrid's front door. The execution party had arrived. Hagrid turned, around and headed back into his cabin, leaving the back door ajar. 

Drew watched the grass flatten in patches all around the cabin and heard three pairs of feet retreating. He, Harry, Ron, and Hermione had gone...

But the Harry Drew and Hermione hidden in the trees could now hear what was happening inside the cabin through the back door. "Where is the beast?" came the cold voice of Macnair. "Out—outside," Hagrid croaked.

"How dare him call Buckbeak a beast," whispered Drew angrily. Harry and Drew pulled their heads out of sight as Macnair's face appeared at Hagrid's window, staring out at Buckbeak. Then they heard Fudge.

"We—er—have to read you the official notice of execution, Hagrid. I'll make it quick. And then you and Macnair need to sign it. Macnair, You're supposed to listen too, that's procedure—" 

Macnair's face vanished from the window. It was now or never. "Wait here," Harry whispered to Hermione and Drew. "I'll do it."

As Fudge's voice started again, Harry darted out from behind his tree, vaulted the fence into the pumpkin patch, and approached Buckbeak.

"It is the decision of the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures that the Hippogriff Buckbeak, hereafter called the condemned, shall he executed on the sixth of June at sundown—" 

Drew watched as careful not to blink, Harry stared up into Buckbeak's fierce orange eyes once more and bowed. Buckbeak sank to his scaly knees and then stood up again. 

Harry began to fumble with the knot of rope tying Buckbeak to the fence. "...sentenced to execution by beheading, to be carried out by the Committee's appointed executioner, Walden Macnair..."

"Come on, Buckbeak," Harry murmured, "come on, we're going to help you. Quietly...quietly..." "...as witnessed below. Hagrid, you sign here..."

Harry threw all his weight onto the rope, but Buckbeak had dug in his front feet.

"Well, let's get this over with," said the reedy voice of the Committee member from inside Hagrid's cabin. "Hagrid, perhaps it will be better if you stay inside—"

"No, I—I wan' ter be with him...I don' wan' him ter be alone—" Footsteps echoed from within the cabin. Then, Drew saw The Angel of Death, staring at the other Drew. "Harry, quick!" Drew said shrilly. "Buckbeak, move!" Harry hissed.

Harry tugged harder on the rope around Buckbeak's neck. The Hippogriff began to walk, rustling its wings irritably. They were still ten feet away from the forest, in plain view of Hagrid's back door.

"One moment, please, Macnair," came Dumbledore's voice. "You need to sign too." The footsteps stopped. Perhaps it was a coincidence, but Dumbledore may had expected all of this. 

Harry heaved on the rope. Buckbeak snapped his beak and walked a little faster. Hermione's white face was sticking out from behind a tree. "Harry, hurry!" she mouthed.

Drew could still hear Dumbledore's voice talking from within the cabin. He gave the rope another wrench. Buckbeak broke into a grudging trot. They had reached the trees...

"Quick! Quick!" Hermione moaned, darting out from behind her tree. Drew also darted out from his tree and they both seize the rope and adding their weight to make Buckbeak move faster. 

Harry looked over his shoulder; they were now blocked from sight; they couldn't see Hagrid's garden at all. "Stop!" he whispered to Hermione and Drew. "They might hear us."

Hagrid's back door had opened with a bang. Harry, Drew Hermione, and Buckbeak stood quite still; even the Hippogriff seemed to be listening intently. Silence...then—

"Where is it?" said the reedy voice of the Committee member. "Where is the beast?" "It was tied here!" said the executioner furiously. "I saw it! Just here!"

"How extraordinary," said Dumbledore. There was a note of amusement in his voice. "Beaky!" said Hagrid huskily.

There was a swishing noise, and the thud of an axe. The executioner seemed to have swung it into the fence in anger. "Ah..." whispered Drew in realization. "I guess the only thing they are executing is the fence," 

And then came the howling, and this time they could hear Hagrid's words through his sobs. "Gone! Gone! Bless his little beak, he's gone! Musta pulled himself free! Beaky, yeh clever boy!"

Buckbeak started to strain against the rope, trying to get back to Hagrid. Harry, Drew and Hermione tightened their grip and dug their heels into the forest floor to stop him.

"Someone untied him!" the executioner was snarling. "We should search the grounds, the forest."

"Macnair, if Buckbeak has indeed been stolen, do you really think the thief will have led him away on foot?" said Dumbledore, still sounding amused. "Search the skies, if you will...Hagrid, I could do with a cup of tea. Or a large brandy."

"O'—o' course, Professor," said Hagrid, who sounded weak with happiness. "Come in, come in..."

Harry, Drew and Hermione listened closely. They heard footsteps, the soft cursing of the executioner, the snap of the door, and then silence once more.

"Now what?" whispered Harry, looking around. "We'll have to hide in here," said Hermione, who looked very shaken. "We need to wait until they've gone back to the castle. Then we wait until it's safe to fly Buckbeak up to Sirius's window. He won't be there for another couple of hours...Oh, this is going to be difficult..."

She looked nervously over her shoulder into the depths of the forest. The sun was setting now.

"We're going to have to move," said Harry, thinking hard. "We've got to be able to see the Whomping Willow, or we won't know what's going on."

"Okay," said Hermione, getting a firmer grip on Buckbeak's rope. "But we've got to keep out of sight, Harry, remember..." Drew turned around and saw The Angel of Death, he looked very angry. 

Drew smirked and waved Death goodbye as Harry, Drew and Hermione moved around the edge of the forest, darkness falling thickly around them, until they were hidden behind a clump of trees through which they could make out the Willow.

"There's Ron!" said Harry suddenly. A dark figure was sprinting across the lawn and its shout echoed through the still night air. "Get away from him—get away—Scabbers, come here—"

And then they saw four more figures materialize out of nowhere. Drew watched himself, Harry, Dylan and Hermione chasing after Ron. Then he saw Ron dive.

"Gotcha! Get off, you stinking cat—" "There's Sirius!" said Harry. The great shape of the dog had bounded out from the roots of the Willow. They saw him bowl Harry over, then seize on...

"Looks even worse from here, doesn't it?" said Harry, watching the dog pulling Ron into the roots as Dylan fell into the hole. "I will kill him," said Drew. "Poor Dylan, that must hurt," 

"Ouch—look, I just got walloped by the tree—and so did you two—this is weird," The Whomping Willow was creaking and lashing out with its lower branches; they could see themselves darting here and there, trying to reach the trunk. And then the tree froze.

"That was Crookshanks pressing the knot," said Hermione. "And there we go..." Harry muttered. "We're in."

The moment they disappeared, the tree began to move again. Seconds later, they heard footsteps quite close by. Dumbledore, Macnair, Fudge, and the old Committee member were making their way up to the castle.

"Right after we'd gone down into the passage!" said Hermione. "If only Dumbledore had come with us..."

"Macnair and Fudge would've come too," said Harry bitterly. "I bet you anything Fudge would've told Macnair to murder Sirius on the spot..." They watched the four men climb the castle steps and disappear from view. 

For a few minutes the scene was deserted. Then— "Here comes Lupin!" said Harry as they saw another figure sprinting down the stone steps and halting toward the Willow. 

Drew looked up at the sky. Clouds were obscuring the moon completely.

They watched Lupin seize a broken branch from the ground and prod the knot on the trunk. The tree stopped fighting, and Lupin, too, disappeared into the gap in its roots.

"If he'd only grabbed the cloak," said Harry. "It's just lying there..." He turned to Hermione and Drew. "If I just dashed out now and grabbed it, Snape'd never be able to get it and—"

"Harry, we mustn't be seen!" "How can you stand this?" he asked Hermione fiercely. "Just standing here and watching it happen?" He hesitated. "I'm going to grab the cloak!"

"Harry, no!" Drew froze him and unfroze his head not a moment too soon. Just then, they heard a burst of song. It was Hagrid, making his way up to the castle, singing at the top of his voice, and weaving slightly as he walked. A large bottle was swinging from his hands.

"See?" Hermione whispered. "See what would have happened? We've got to keep out of sight! Luckily Drew freezes you—No, Buckbeak!"

The Hippogriff was making frantic attempts to get to Hagrid again; Drew and Hermione clutched their ropes; Harry unfroze and seized his rope too, straining to hold Buckbeak back. 

They watched Hagrid meander tipsily up to the castle. He was gone. Buckbeak stopped fighting to get away. His head drooped sadly.

Barely two minutes later, the castle doors flew open yet again, and Snape came charging out of them, running toward the Willow. 

Harry's fists clenched as they watched Snape skid to a halt next to the tree, looking around. He grabbed the cloak and held it up.

"Get your filthy hands off it," Harry snarled under his breath. "Shh!" Snape seized the branch Lupin had used to freeze the tree, prodded the knot, and vanished from view as he put on the cloak.

"So that's it," said Hermione quietly. "We're all down there...and now we've just got to wait until we come back up again..."

She took the end of Buckbeak's rope and tied it securely around the nearest tree, then sat down on the dry ground, arms around her knees.

"Harry, Drew, there's something I don't understand...why didn't the Dementors get Sirius? I remember them coming, and then I think I passed out...there were so many of them..."

Harry and Drew sat down too. They explained what they'd seen; how, as the nearest Dementor had lowered its mouth to theirs, a large silver something had come galloping across the lake and forced the Dementors to retreat.

Hermione's mouth was slightly open by the time Harry and Drew had finished. "But what was it?" "There's only one thing it could have been, to make the Dementors go," said Harry. "A real Patronus. A powerful one."

"But who conjured it?" "I don't know, I fainted," said Drew, looking at Harry. Drew was thinking back to the person he'd seen on the other bank of the lake. The person was so familiar...but who? 

"Didn't you see what they looked like?" said Hermione eagerly. "Was it one of the teachers?" "No," said Harry. "He wasn't a teacher."

"But it must have been a really powerful wizard, to drive all those Dementors away...If the Patronus was shining so brightly, didn't it light him up? Couldn't you two see—"

"Yeah, we saw him," said Harry slowly. "But...maybe I imagined it ...wasn't thinking straight...I passed out right afterward..." "Who did you think it was?"

"I think—" Harry swallowed, knowing how strange this was going to sound. "I think it was my dad."

Harry glanced up at Hermione and Drew and saw that their mouths were fully open now. Hermione was gazing at him with a mixture of alarm and pity as Drew put his arm around Harry. 

"Harry, your dad's—well—dead," Hermione said quietly. "I know that," said Harry quickly. "You think you saw his ghost?" "I don't know...no...he looked solid..."

"But then—" "Maybe I was seeing things," said Harry. "But...from what I could see...it looked like him...I've got photos of him..."

Hermione was still looking at him as though worried about his sanity. "I know it sounds crazy," said Harry flatly. 

Harry turned to look at Buckbeak, who was digging his beak into the ground, apparently searching for worms. But he wasn't really watching Buckbeak; Drew noticed that he was dozing off. 

"What's on your mind?" asked Drew, grabbing Harry's hand. "It was just..." Harry began. "I am thinking about Moony, Miffy, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs..."

"Harry..." "Had all four of them been out on the grounds tonight? Pettigrew had reappeared this evening when everyone had thought he was dead...I just thought maybe my father had done the same."

"Harry, what father would faked his death and abandoned his son? That's horrible," said Drew as he put his head on Harry's shoulder. 

"I know it's stupid but if he's really alive..." At that moment, Drew kissed his cheek. "Harry, don't think about your past, think about your future instead," 

Harry blushed slightly. "But—" "No buts," said Drew. "Harry, you're the most incredible person that I have met, and I don't want to see you thinking about your parents' death."

Harry grinned and gave Drew a kiss on the lip. The leaves overhead rustled faintly in the breeze. The moon drifted in and out of sight behind the shifting clouds. 

Hermione sat with her face turned toward the Willow, waiting. And then, at last, after over an hour..."Here we come!" Hermione whispered.

She, Drew and Harry got to their feet. Buckbeak raised his head. They saw Lupin, Ron, and Pettigrew clambering awkwardly out of the hole in the roots. 

Then came Hermione and Damien...then the unconscious Snape and Dylan, drifting weirdly upward. Next came Harry, Drew and Black. They all began to walk toward the castle.

Drew could feel a cold sweat passing over his body. He glanced up at the sky. Any moment now, that cloud was going to move aside and show the moon...

"Harry," Hermione muttered as though she knew exactly what he was thinking, "we've got to stay put. We mustn't be seen. There's nothing we can do..."

"So we're just going to let Pettigrew escape all over again..." said Harry quietly. "How do you expect to find a rat in the dark?" snapped Hermione. "There's nothing we can do! We came back to help Sirius; we're not supposed to be doing anything else!"

"All right!" The moon slid out from behind its cloud. They saw the tiny figures across the grounds stop. Then they saw movement— "There goes Lupin," Hermione whispered. "He's transforming."

"Hermione! Drew!" said Harry suddenly. "We've got to move!" "We mustn't, I keep telling you—" "Not to interfere! Lupin's going to run into the forest, right at us!"

Hermione gasped as Drew slapped his forehead. "Quick!" she moaned, dashing to untie Buckbeak. "Quick! Where are we going to go? Where are we going to hide? The Dementors will be coming any moment—"

"Back to Hagrid's!" Harry said. "It's empty now—come on!" They ran as fast as they could, Buckbeak cantering along behind them. They could hear the werewolf howling behind them...

The cabin was in sight; Harry skidded to the door, wrenched it open, and Hermione, Drew and Buckbeak flashed past him; Harry threw himself in after them and bolted the door. Fang the boarhound barked loudly.

"Shh, Fang, it's us!" said Hermione, hurrying over and scratching his ears to quieten him. "That was really close!" she said to Harry and Drew. "Yeah..."

Drew was looking out of the window. It was much harder to see what was going on from here. Buckbeak seemed very happy to find himself back inside Hagrid's house. 

He lay down in front of the fire, folded his wings contentedly, and seemed ready for a good nap. "I think I'd better go outside again, you know," said Harry slowly. "I can't see what's going on—we won't know when it's time—"

Hermione looked up. Her expression was suspicious. "I'm not going to try and interfere," said Harry quickly. "But if we don't see what's going on, how're we going to know when it's time to rescue Sirius?"

"Well...okay, then...I'll wait here with Buckbeak...but Drew must come with you," Drew didn't need telling twice; he had opened the door and stood in the middle of the door frame. 

"Harry, Drew, be careful—there's a werewolf out there and the Dementors." added Hermione. 

Harry and Drew stepped outside again and edged around the cabin. They could hear yelping in the distance. That meant the Dementors were closing in on Sirius...They, Damien and Hermione would be running to him any moment...

Harry and Drew stared out toward the lake. Whoever had sent that Patronus would be appearing at any moment...

For a fraction of a second they stood, irresolute, in front of Hagrid's door. Drew knew what Harry was thinking, he wanted to see their mysterious saviour, but Hermione's warnings about not being seen was repeating inside Drew's head. 

And there were the Dementors. They were emerging out of the darkness from every direction, gliding around the edges of the lake...They were moving away from where Harry and Drew stood, to the opposite bank...He wouldn't have to get near them...

Harry and Drew subsequently began to run towards the lake. The lake was coming nearer and nearer. On the opposite bank, they could see tiny glimmers of silver and a silverish phoenix. 

There was a bush at the very edge of the water. Harry and Drew threw themselves behind it, peering desperately through the leaves. A terrified excitement shot through them—any moment now—

On the opposite bank, the glimmers of silver and the phoenix were suddenly extinguished. "Come on!" he muttered, staring about. "Where are you? Dad, come on—" 

But no one came. "Harry, no one is coming," said Drew, starting to feel anxious. Drew raised his head to look at the circle of Dementors across the lake. 

The two of them were lowering its hood, one in front of Drew and one in front of Harry. It was time for the rescuer to appear—but no one was coming to help this time—

"Harry, we're—" Suddenly, Harry flung himself out from behind the bush and pulled out his wand. "EXPECTO PATRONUM!" he yelled.

And out of the end of his wand burst, not a shapeless cloud of mist, but a blinding, dazzling, silver animal. They screwed up his eyes, trying to see what it was. 

It looked like a horse. It was galloping silently away from him, across the black surface of the lake. They saw it lower its head and charge at the swarming Dementors...

Now it was galloping around and around the black shapes on the ground, and the Dementors were falling back, scattering, retreating into the darkness...They were gone.

The Patronus turned. It was cantering back toward Harry across the still surface of the water. It wasn't a horse. It wasn't a unicorn, either. It was a stag. It was shining brightly as the moon above...

It was coming back to him...It stopped on the bank. Its hooves made no mark on the soft ground as it stared at Harry with its large, silver eyes. 

Slowly, it bowed its antlered head. "Prongs," Drew heard Harry whispered. But as his trembling fingertips stretched toward the creature, it vanished.

Harry stood there, hand still outstretched. Harry smiled widely and ran toward Drew. Without hesitation, he kissed Drew like a wild lion, gently biting Drew's lip and tongue. 

The kiss wasn't like the other kiss they had done before; it was as if they really enjoying it. Drew blushed madly and put his arms around Harry's neck. 

They closed their eyes; Drew felt their tongue were tangling and licking each other; Harry's hands were ruffling Drew's hair, the latter began to put one of his hand on the former's butt while the former touched the latter's cock. 

The kiss was becoming more and more intimate when they heard hooves behind them. They let go of each other and whirled around. They saw Hermione dashing toward them, dragging Buckbeak behind her.

"What did you do?" she said fiercely. "You said you were only going to keep a lookout!" "I just saved all our lives..." said Harry, sweating. "Get behind here behind this bush—I'll explain."

Hermione listened to what had just happened with her mouth open yet again. "Did anyone see you?" "Yes, haven't you been listening? I saw me but I thought I was my dad! It's okay!"

"Harry, I can't believe it...You conjured up a Patronus that drove away all those Dementors! I think you and Drew are the youngest and the only ones who can conjure a Patronus." 

"I knew I could do it this time," said Harry, "because I'd already done it...Does that make sense?" "I don't know—guys, look at Snape!"

Together they peered around the bush at the other bank. Snape had regained consciousness. He was conjuring stretchers and lifting the limp forms of Harry, Drew, Damien and Hermione, and Black onto them.

A fourth and a fifth stretcher, no doubt bearing Ron and Dylan, were already floating at his side. Then, wand held out in front of him, he moved them away toward the castle.

"Right, it's nearly time," said Hermione tensely, looking at her watch. "We've got about forty-five minutes until Dumbledore locks the door to the hospital wing. We've got to rescue Sirius and get back into the ward before anybody realizes we're missing..."

They waited, watching the moving clouds reflected in the lake, while the bush next to them whispered in the breeze. Buckbeak, bored, was ferreting for worms again.

"Do you reckon he's up there yet?" said Harry, checking his watch. He looked up at the castle and began counting the windows to the right of the West Tower.

"Look!" Hermione whispered. "Who's that? Someone's coming back out of the castle!"

Drew stared through the darkness. The man was hurrying across the grounds, toward one of the entrances. Something shiny glinted in his belt.

"It's Macnair!" said Drew. "The executioner! He's gone to get the Dementors! This is it, Hermione—" 

Hermione put her hands on Buckbeak's back and Harry gave her a leg up. Drew orbed to the front of Hermione. Then Harry placed his foot on one of the lower branches of the bush and climbed up in front of Drew. 

He pulled Buckbeak's rope back over his neck and tied it to the other side of his collar like reins. "Ready?" he whispered to Hermione and Drew. "You'd better hold on to me—" 

At these words, Drew put his arms around Harry's waist and Hermione put her arms around Drew's. 

Harry nudged Buckbeak's sides with his heels. Buckbeak soared straight into the dark air. Drew gripped his flanks with his knees, feeling the great wings rising powerfully beneath them. 

Hermione was holding Drew very tight around the waist. "Hermione—I—need—to—breath," choked Drew. "Oh, no—I don't like this oh, I really don't like this—" muttered Hermione, ignoring Drew. 

Harry urged Buckbeak forward. They were gliding quietly toward the upper floors of the castle...Harry pulled hard on the left-hand side of the rope, and Buckbeak turned. 

Harry was trying to count the windows flashing past—"Whoa!" he said, pulling backward as hard as he could.

Buckbeak slowed down and they found themselves at a stop, unless you counted the fact that they kept rising up and down several feet as the Hippogriff beat his wings to remain airborne.

"He's there!" Harry said, spotting Sirius as they rose up beside the window. He reached out, and as Buckbeak's wings fell, was able to tap sharply on the glass.

Black looked up. Drew saw his jaw drop. He leapt from his chair, hurried to the window and tried to open it, but it was locked. 

"Stand back!" Drew called to him. He raised his hands and energybeams shot out of his hands and the window finally broke into pieces. 

"How—how—" said Black weakly, staring at the Hippogriff. "Get on—there's not much time," said Harry, gripping Buckbeak firmly on either side of his sleek neck to hold him steady. "You've got to get out of here—the Dementors are coming—Macnair's gone to get them."

Black placed a hand on either side of the window frame and heaved his head and shoulders out of it. It was very lucky he was so thin. 

In seconds, he had managed to fling one leg over Buckbeak's back and pull himself onto the Hippogriff behind Hermione. "Okay, Buckbeak, up!" said Harry, shaking the rope. "Up to the tower—come on."

The Hippogriff gave one sweep of its mighty wings and they were soaring upward again, high as the top of the West Tower. Buckbeak landed with a clatter on the battlements, and Harry, Drew and Hermione slid off him at once.

"Sirius, you'd better go, quick," Harry panted. "They'll reach Flitwick's office any moment, they'll find out you're gone." Buckbeak pawed the ground, tossing his sharp head.

"What happened to your brothers, Dylan and Damien, and the other boy? Ron?" croaked Sirius. "They're going to be okay. They're still out of it, but Madam Pomfrey says she'll be able to make them better. Quick—go—"

But Black was still staring down at Harry and Drew "How can I ever thank—" "GO!" Harry, Drew and Hermione shouted together.

Black wheeled Buckbeak around, facing the open sky. "We'll see each other again," he said. "You are—truly your father's son, Harry. And you and your brothers are really your mother's sons, Drew,"

He squeezed Buckbeak's sides with his heels. Harry, Drew and Hermione jumped back as the enormous wings rose once more... The Hippogriff took off into the air...

He and his rider became smaller and smaller as Harry gazed after them...then a cloud drifted across the moon...They were gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like/Kudos= Pro
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> Comment=Hacker
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> Bookmark=God
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> Ignore=Noob


	20. The Good Dead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Death is inevitable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like/Kudos= Pro
> 
> Comment=Hacker
> 
> Bookmark=God
> 
> Ignore=Noob

"Harry! Drew!" Hermione was tugging at their sleeves, staring at her watch. "We've got exactly ten minutes to get back down to the hospital wing without anybody seeing us—before Dumbledore locks the door—"

"So, what are we waiting for!" said Drew, looking frantically at Harry and Hermione. "Okay," said Harry, wrenching his gaze from the sky, "let's go..."

They slipped through the doorway behind them and down a tightly spiraling stone staircase. As they reached the bottom of it, they heard voices.

They flattened themselves against the wall and listened. It sounded like Fudge and Snape. They were walking quickly along the corridor at the foot of the staircase.

"...only hope Dumbledore's not going to make difficulties," Snape was saying. "The Kiss will be performed immediately?"

"As soon as Macnair returns with the Dementors. This whole Black affair has been highly embarrassing. I can't tell you how much I'm looking forward to informing the Daily Prophet that we've got him at last...I daresay they'll want to interview you, Snape...and once young Harry's back in his right mind, I expect he'll want to tell the Prophet exactly how you saved him..."

Drew sent a glare at the adults. He caught a glimpse of Snape's smirk as he and Fudge passed Harry's, Drew's and Hermione's hiding place.

Their footsteps died away. Harry, Drew and Hermione waited a few moments to make sure they'd really gone, then started to run in the opposite direction.

Down one staircase, then another, along a new corridor—then they heard a cackling ahead. "Peeves!" Harry muttered, grabbing Drew's and Hermione's wrist. "In here!"

They tore into a deserted classroom to their left just in time. Peeves seemed to be bouncing along the corridor in boisterous good spirits, laughing his head off.

"Oh, he's horrible," whispered Hermione, her ear to the door. "I bet he's all excited because the Dementors are going to finish off Sirius..." She checked her watch. "Three minutes, guys!"

They waited until Peeves's gloating voice had faded into the distance, then slid back out of the room and broke into a run again. "Hermione—what'll happen—if we don't get back inside before Dumbledore locks the door?" Harry panted.

"Maybe they will accuse us for setting Sirius free," said Drew, shrugging. "I don't even want to think about it!" Hermione moaned, checking her watch again. "One minute!"

They had reached the end of the corridor with the hospital wing entrance. "Okay—I can hear Dumbledore," said Hermione tensely. "Come on, guys!"

They crept along the corridor. The door opened. Dumbledore's back appeared. "I am going to lock you in," they heard him saying. "it is five minutes to midnight. Miss Granger, three turns should do it. Good luck."

Dumbledore backed out of the room, closed the door, and took out his wand to magically lock it. Panicking, Harry, Drew and Hermione ran forward.

Dumbledore looked up, and a wide smile appeared under the long silver mustache. "Well?" he said quietly. "We did it!" said Harry breathlessly. "Sirius has gone, on Buckbeak..."

Dumbledore beamed at them. "Well done. I think—" He listened intently for any sound within the hospital wing. "Yes, I think you've gone too—get inside—I'll lock you in—"

Harry, Drew and Hermione slipped back inside the dormitory. It was empty except for Ron, Dylan and Damien, who was still lying motionless in the end bed.

As the lock clicked behind them, Harry and Hermione crept back to their own beds, Hermione tucking the Time-Turner back under her robes.

A moment later, Madam Pomfrey came striding back out of her office. "Did I hear the headmaster leaving? Am I allowed to look after my patients now?"

She was in a very bad mood. Harry, Drew and Hermione thought it best to accept their chocolate quietly. Madam Pomfrey stood over them, making sure they ate it. But Drew could hardly swallow.

He, Drew and Hermione were waiting, listening, their nerves jangling...And then, as they both took a fourth piece of chocolate from Madam Pomfrey, they heard a distant roar of fury echoing from somewhere above them...

"What was that?" said Madam Pomfrey in alarm. Now they could hear angry voices, growing louder and louder. Madam Pomfrey was staring at the door.

"Really—they'll wake everybody up! What do they think they're doing?" Drew was trying to hear what the voices were saying. They were drawing nearer—

"He must have find a way to blow the door up, maybe he Disapparate, Severus. We should have left somebody in the room with him. When this gets out—"

"HE DIDN'T DISAPPARATE!" Snape roared, now very close at hand. "YOU CAN'T APPARATE OR DISAPPARATE INSIDE THIS CASTLE! THIS—HAS—SOMETHING—TO—DO—WITH—POTTER!"

"Severus—be reasonable—Harry has been locked up—" BAM. The door of the hospital wing burst open.

Fudge, Snape, and Dumbledore came striding into the ward. Dumbledore alone looked calm. Indeed, he looked as though he was quite enjoying himself.

Fudge appeared angry. But Snape was beside himself. "OUT WITH IT, POTTER!" he bellowed. "WHAT DID YOU DO?" "Professor Snape!" shrieked Madam Pomfrey. "Control yourself!"

"See here, Snape, be reasonable," said Fudge. "This door's been locked, we just saw—"

"THEY HELPED HIM ESCAPE, I KNOW IT!" Snape howled, pointing at Harry, Drew and Hermione. His face was twisted; spit was flying from his mouth.

"Calm down, man!" Fudge barked. "You're talking nonsense!" "YOU DON'T KNOW POTTER!" shrieked Snape. "HE DID IT, I KNOW HE DID IT—"

"That will do, Severus," said Dumbledore quietly. "Think about what you are saying. This door has been locked since I left the ward ten minutes ago. Madam Pomfrey, have these students left their beds?"

"Of course not!" said Madam Pomfrey, bristling. "I would have heard them!" "Well, there you have it, Severus," said Dumbledore calmly. "Unless you are suggesting that Harry and Hermione are able to be in two places at once, I'm afraid I don't see any point in troubling them further."

Snape stood there, seething, staring from Fudge, who looked thoroughly shocked at his behavior, to Dumbledore, whose eyes were twinkling behind his glasses.

Drew, meanwhile, trying not to smirk, and it was hard. Snape whirled about, robes swishing behind him, and stormed out of the ward.

"Fellow seems quite unbalanced," said Fudge, staring after him. "I'd watch out for him if I were you, Dumbledore." "Oh, he's not unbalanced," said Dumbledore quietly. "He's just suffered a severe disappointment."

"He's not the only one!" puffed Fudge. "The Daily Prophet's going to have a field day! We had Black cornered and he slipped through our fingers yet again! All it needs now is for the story of that Hippogriff's escape to get out, and I'll be a laughingstock! Well...I'd better go and notify the Ministry..."

"And the Dementors?" said Dumbledore. "They'll be removed from the school, I trust?" "Oh yes, they'll have to go," said Fudge, running his fingers distractedly through his hair.

"Never dreamed they'd attempt to administer the Kiss on an innocent boy...Completely out of control...no, I'll have them packed off back to Azkaban tonight...Perhaps we should think about dragons at the school entrance..."

"Hagrid would like that," said Dumbledore, smiling at Harry and Hermione. As he and Fudge left the dormitory, Madam Pomfrey hurried to the door and locked it again.

Muttering angrily to herself, she headed back to her office. There was a low moan from the other end of the ward. Ron had woken up. They could see him sitting up, rubbing his head, looking around.

"What—what happened?" he groaned. "Harry? Why are we in here? Where's Sirius? Where's Lupin? What's going on?" Harry, Drew and Hermione looked at each other.

"You two explain," said Harry, helping himself to some more chocolate.

When Harry, Ron, and Hermione left the hospital wing at noon the next day, it was to find an almost deserted castle. The sweltering, heat and the end of the exams meant that everyone was taking full advantage of another Hogsmeade visit.

Neither Ron nor Hermione felt like going, however, so they and Harry wandered onto the grounds, still talking about the extraordinary events of the previous night and wondering where Sirius and Buckbeak were now.

Sitting near the lake, watching the giant squid waving its tentacles lazily above the water, Drew lost the thread of the conversation as he smiled.

Sirius and Buckbeak were supposed to be dead and The Angel of Death seemed to be angry with Drew. Sometimes, Drew felt his presence around the school.

However, there's a thing still bothering Drew, Death said three deaths will happen this year and Sirius and Buckbeak were the two of them but who was the last one?

A shadow fell across them and they looked up to see a very bleary-eyed Hagrid, mopping his sweaty face with one of his tablecloth-sized handkerchiefs and beaming down at them.

"Know I shouldn' feel happy, after wha' happened las' night," he said. "I mean, Black escapin' again, an, everythin'—but guess what?" "What?" they said, pretending to look curious.

"Beaky! He escaped! He's free! Bin celebratin' all night!" "That's wonderful!" said Hermione, giving Ron a reproving look because he looked as though he was close to laughing.

"Yeah...can't've tied him up properly," said Hagrid, gazing happily out over the grounds. "I was worried this mornin', mind...thought he mighta met Professor Lupin on the grounds, but Lupin says he never ate anythin' las' night..."

"What?" said Harry quickly. "Blimey, haven' yeh heard?" said Hagrid, his smile fading a little. He lowered his voice, even though there was nobody in sight.

"Er—Snape told all the Slytherins this mornin'...Thought everyone'd know by now...Professor Lupin's a werewolf, see. An' he was loose on the grounds las' night...He's packin' now, o' course."

"He's packing?" said Harry, alarmed. "Why?" "Leavin', isn' he?" said Hagrid, looking surprised that Harry had to ask. "Resigned firs' thing this mornin'. Says he can't risk it happenin again."

Harry scrambled to his feet and Drew did the same. "We're going to see him," Harry said to Ron and Hermione. "But if he's resigned—" "doesn't sound like there's anything we can do—"

"I don't care. He is my uncle, I need to see him," said Drew. "We'll meet you back here." added Harry.

Lupin's office door was open. He had already packed most of his things.

The Grindylow's empty tank stood next to his battered old suitcase, which was open and nearly full. Lupin was bending over something on his desk and looked up only when Harry knocked on the door.

"I saw you coming," said Lupin, smiling. He pointed to the parchment he had been poring over. It was the Marauder's Map. "I just saw Hagrid," said Harry. "And he said you'd resigned. It's not true, is it?"

"I'm afraid it is," said Lupin. He started opening his desk drawers and taking out the contents. "Why?" said Harry. "The Ministry of Magic don't think you were helping Sirius, do they?"

Lupin crossed to the door and closed it behind Harry. "No. Professor Dumbledore managed to convince Fudge that I was trying to save your lives."

He sighed. "That was the final straw for Severus. I think the loss of the Order of Merlin hit him hard. So he—er—accidentally let slip that I am a werewolf this morning at breakfast."

"What!" "You're not leaving just because of that!" said Harry. Lupin smiled wryly.

"This time tomorrow, the owls will start arriving from parents... They will not want a werewolf teaching their children, Harry, Drew. And after last night, I see their point. I could have bitten any of you...That must never happen again."

"You're the best Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher we've ever had!" said Harry. "Don't go!" "Please, Uncle Remus," said Drew as he put the puppy eyes on his face.

Lupin shook his head and didn't speak. He carried on emptying his drawers. Then, while they were trying to think of a good argument to make him stay, Lupin said, "From what the headmaster told me this morning, you saved a lot of lives last night, Harry, Drew. If I'm proud of anything I've done this year, it's how much you've learned...tell me about your Patronus, Harry."

"How d'you know about that?" said Harry, distracted. "What else could have driven the Dementors back?"

Harry told Lupin what had happened. When he'd finished, Lupin was smiling again. "Yes, your father was always a stag when he transformed," he said. "You guessed right...that's why we called him Prongs."

Lupin threw his last few books into his case, closed the desk drawers, and turned to look at Harry. "Here—I brought this from the Shrieking Shack last night," he said, handing Harry back the Invisibility Cloak. "And..."

He hesitated, then held out the Marauder's Map too. "I am no longer your teacher, so I don't feel guilty about giving you back this as well. It's no use to me, and I daresay you two, Ron, and Hermione will find uses for it."

Harry took the map and grinned. "You told me Moony, Miffy, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs would've wanted to lure me out of school... you said they'd have thought it was funny."

"And so we would have," said Lupin, now reaching down to close his case. "I have no hesitation in saying that James would have been highly disappointed if his son had never found any of the secret passages out of the castle."

"I would say the same for your mom, Drew," added Lupin. There was a knock on the door. Drew hastily stuffed the Marauder's Map into his pocket while Harry rapidly stuffed the Invisibility Cloak into his.

It was Professor Dumbledore. He didn't look surprised to see Harry and Drew there. "Your carriage is at the gates, Remus," he said. "Thank You, Headmaster."

Lupin picked up his old suitcase and the empty Grindylow tank. "Well—good-bye, Harry," he said, smiling. "It has been a real pleasure teaching you. I feel sure we'll meet again sometime. Headmaster, there is no need to see me to the gates, I can manage..."

Drew had the impression that Lupin wanted to leave as quickly as possible. "Good-bye, then, Remus," said Dumbledore soberly. Lupin shifted the Grindylow tank slightly so that he and Dumbledore could shake hands.

"Hey, Drew." Lupin called. "Send my love to Tyler, can you?" Then, with a final nod to Harry and Drew and a swift smile, Lupin left the office. Harry and Drew sat down in their vacated chairs, staring glumly at the floor.

They heard the door close and looked up. Dumbledore was still there. "Why so miserable, Harry?" he said quietly. "You should be very proud of yourself after last night."

"It didn't make any difference," said Harry bitterly. "Pettigrew got away." "Didn't make any difference?" said Dumbledore quietly, "It made all the difference in the world, Harry. You helped uncover the truth. You saved an innocent man from a terrible fate."

"But Sirius is still on the run and that rat is still being called a ' _hero_ '," said Drew gloomily.

"Professor Dumbledore—yesterday, when I was having my Divination exam, Professor Trelawney went very—very strange." "Indeed?" said Dumbledore. "Er—stranger than usual, you mean?"

At these words, Drew remembered about his premonition. "Yes... her voice went all deep and her eyes rolled and she said...she said Voldemort's servant was going to set out to return to him before midnight...she said the servant would help him come back to power."

Harry stared up at Dumbledore. "And then she sort of became normal again, and she couldn't remember anything she'd said. Was it—was she making a real prediction?"

Dumbledore looked mildly impressed. "Do you know, Harry, I think she might have been." he said thoughtfully. "Who'd have thought it? That brings her total of real predictions up to two. I should offer her a pay raise..."

"But—" Harry looked at him, aghast. Drew raised an eyebrow at Dumbledore. How could Dumbledore take this so calmly? "But—I stopped Sirius and Professor Lupin from killing Pettigrew! That makes it my fault if Voldemort comes back!"

"And mine too," said Drew. "It does not," said Dumbledore quietly. "Hasn't your experience with the Time-Turner taught you anything, Harry? The consequences of our actions are always so complicated, so diverse, that predicting the future is a very difficult business indeed...Professor Trelawney, bless her, is living proof of that...You did a very noble thing, in saving Pettigrew's life."

"But if he helps Voldemort back to power..." "Pettigrew owes his life to you. You have sent Voldemort a deputy who is in your debt...1When one wizard saves another wizard's life, it creates a certain bond between them...and I'm much mistaken if Voldemort wants his servant in the debt of Harry Potter."

"I don't want a connection with Pettigrew!" said Harry. "He betrayed my parents!" "This is magic at its deepest, its most impenetrable, Harry. But trust me...the time may come when you will be very glad you saved Pettigrew's life."

Drew couldn't imagine when that would be. "I knew your father very well, both at Hogwarts and later, Harry," he said gently. "He would have saved Pettigrew too, I am sure of it."

Harry looked up at him. "I thought it was my dad who'd conjured my Patronus. I mean, when I saw myself across the lake...I thought I was seeing him."

"An easy mistake to make," said Dumbledore softly. "I expect you'll tire of hearing it, but you do look extraordinarily like James. Except for the eyes...you have your mother's eyes."

Harry shook his head. "It was stupid, thinking it was him," he muttered. "I mean, I knew he was dead."

"You think the dead we loved ever truly leave us? You think that we don't recall them more clearly than ever in times of great trouble? Your father is alive in you, Harry, and shows himself most plainly when you have need of him. How else could you produce that particular Patronus? Prongs rode again last night."

It took a moment for Drew to realize what Dumbledore had said. "Last night Sirius told me all about how they became Animagi," said Dumbledore, smiling.

"An extraordinary achievement—not least, keeping it quiet from me. And then I remembered the most unusual form your Patronus took, when it charged Mr. Malfoy down at your Quidditch match against Ravenclaw. You know, Harry, in a way, you did see your father last night...you found him inside yourself."

And Dumbledore left the office, leaving Harry and Drew to their very confused thoughts.

Nobody at Hogwarts now knew the truth of what had happened the night that Sirius, Buckbeak, and Pettigrew had vanished except Harry, Drew, Ron, Hermione, and Professor Dumbledore.

As the end of term approached, Drew heard many different theories about what had really happened, but none of them came close to the truth.

Malfoy was furious about Buckbeak. He was convinced that Hagrid had found a way of smuggling the Hippogriff to safety, and seemed outraged that he and his father had been outwitted by a gamekeeper. Percy Weasley, meanwhile, had much to say on the subject of Sirius's escape.

"If I manage to get into the Ministry, I'll have a lot of proposals to make about Magical Law Enforcement!" he told the only person who would listen—his girlfriend, Penelope.

Though the weather was perfect, though the atmosphere was so cheerful, though he knew they had achieved the near impossible in helping Sirius to freedom, Harry had never approached the end of a school year in worse spirits.

He certainly wasn't the only one who was sorry to see Professor Lupin go. The whole of Drew's Defense Against the Dark Arts class was miserable about his resignation.

"Wonder what they'll give us next year?" said Seamus Finnigan gloomily. "Maybe a vampire," suggested Dean Thomas hopefully.

It wasn't only Professor Lupin's departure that was weighing on Drew's mind. He was downhearted that Harry have to live with those Dursleys.

It would've been amazing, maybe they could've gone fishing together; maybe they would've paid a visit to the Halliwells; maybe they even would've like to do some 'dad and son' activities...If it wasn't for Pettigrew, Harry and Sirius could have a happy life.

The exam results came out on the last day of term. Harry, Drew, Ron, and Hermione had passed every subject. Drew was surprised that he had got through Potions.

He had a shrewd suspicion that Dumbledore might have stepped in to stop Snape failing him on purpose.

Snape's behavior toward Harry over the past week had been quite alarming. Drew wouldn't have thought it possible that Snape's dislike for him could increase, but it certainly had.

A muscle twitched unpleasantly at the corner of Snape's thin mouth every time he looked at Harry, and he was constantly flexing his fingers, as though itching to place them around Harry's throat.

Percy had got his top-grade N. E. W. T. s; Fred and George had scraped a handful of O. W. L. s each. Gryffindor House, meanwhile, largely thanks to their spectacular performance in the Quidditch Cup, had won the House championship for the third year running.

This meant that the end of term feast took place amid decorations of scarlet and gold, and that the Gryffindor table was the noisiest of the lot, as everybody celebrated.

As the Hogwarts Express pulled out of the station the next morning, Hermione gave Harry, Drew and Ron some surprising news.

"I went to see Professor McGonagall this morning, just before breakfast. I've decided to drop Muggle Studies." "But you passed your exam with three hundred and twenty percent!" said Ron.

"I know," sighed Hermione, "but I can't stand another year like this one. That Time-Turner, it was driving me mad. I've handed it in. Without Muggle Studies and Divination, I'll be able to have a normal schedule again."

"I still can't believe you didn't tell us about it," said Ron grumpily. "We're supposed to be your friends." "I promised I wouldn't tell anyone," said Hermione severely.

She looked around at Harry, who was watching Hogwarts disappear from view behind a mountain. Two whole months before he'd see it again...

"Oh, cheer up, Harry!" said Hermione sadly. "I'm okay," said Harry quickly. "Just thinking about the holidays."

"Yeah, I've been thinking about them too," said Ron. "Harry, you've got to come and stay with us. I'll fix it up with Mum and Dad, then I'll call you. I know how to use a fellytone now—"

"A telephone, Ron," said Hermione and Drew. "Honestly, you should take Muggle Studies next year..." added Hermione. Ron ignored her.

"It's the Quidditch World Cup this summer! How about it, Harry? Come and stay, and we'll go and see it! Dad can usually get tickets from work."

"Yeah...I bet the Dursleys'd be pleased to let me come...especially after what I did to Aunt Marge..." "What if you threaten them?" Drew suggested.

"Drew!" said Hermione. "What if you just tell them that Sirius the 'convicted murderer' is your godfather?" said Drew, ignoring Hermione.

"I bet it would scare the heck out of them," "You know, Drew," said Harry, putting his arm around Drew. "It is a wonderful idea,"

Feeling considerably more cheerful, Harry joined Drew, Ron and Hermione in several games of Exploding Snap, and when the witch with the tea cart arrived, he bought himself a very large lunch, though nothing with chocolate in it.

But it was late in the afternoon before the thing that made him truly happy turned up...

"Harry," said Hermione suddenly, peering over his shoulder. "What's that thing outside your window?"

Harry, Drew and Ron turned to look outside. Something very small and gray was bobbing in and out of sight beyond the glass.

He stood up for a better look and saw that it was a tiny owl, carrying a letter that was much too big for it.

The owl was so small, in fact, that it kept tumbling over in the air, buffeted this way and that in the train's slipstream.

Harry quickly pulled down the window, stretched out his arm, and caught it. He brought it carefully inside.

The owl dropped its letter onto Harry's seat and began zooming around their compartment, apparently very pleased with itself for accomplishing its task.

Hedwig clicked her beak with a sort of dignified disapproval. Crookshanks sat up in his seat, following the owl with his great yellow eyes.

Ron, noticing this, snatched the owl safely out of harm's way. Harry picked up the letter. It was addressed to him and Drew. He ripped open the letter, and shouted, "It's from Sirius!" "What?" said Drew, Ron and Hermione excitedly. "Read it aloud!"

_Dear Harry and Drew,_

_I hope this finds you before you reach your aunt and uncle. I don't know whether they're used to owl post._

_Buckbeak and I are in hiding. I won't tell you where, in case this owl falls into the wrong hands. I have some doubt about his reliability, but he is the best I could find, and he did seem eager for the job._

_I believe the Dementors are still searching for me, but they haven't a hope of finding me here. I am planning to allow some Muggles to glimpse me soon, a long way from Hogwarts, so that the security on the castle will be lifted._

_Drew, maybe I didn't know you very much but I really cared for you as though you were my own son. (I hope your father didn't find out about this)_

_There is something I never got around to telling you during our brief meeting. It was I who sent you two the Firebolts—_

"Ha!" said Hermione triumphantly. "See! I told you it was from him!" "Yes, but he hadn't jinxed it, had he?" said Ron. "Ouch!" The tiny owl now hooting happily in his hand, had nibbled one of his fingers in what it seemed to think was an affectionate way.

"Why he even sent me a Firebolt?" said Drew. "He barely even knows me," "Maybe because of your mother, Sirius decided to give her son a Firebolt," said Ron.

_Crookshanks took the order to the Owl Office for me. I used your name but told them to take the gold from my own Gringotts vault. Please consider it as thirteen birthdays' worth of presents from your godfather._

_I would like to apologize for the fright I think I gave you that night last year when you left your uncle's house, Harry. I had only hoped to get a glimpse of you before starting my journey north, but I think the sight of me alarmed you._

_I am enclosing something else for you, which I think will make your next year at Hogwarts more enjoyable._

_If ever you need me, send word. Your owl will find me._

_I'll write again soon._

_Sirius_

Harry looked eagerly inside the envelope. There was another piece of parchment in there. He read it through quickly and felt suddenly as warm and contented as though he'd swallowed a bottle of hot butterbeer in one gulp.

_I, Sirius Black, Harry Potter's godfather, hereby give him permission to visit Hogsmeade on weekends._

"That'll be good enough for Dumbledore!" said Harry happily. He looked back at Sirius's letter. "Hang on, there's a PS..."

_I thought your friend Ron might like to keep this owl, as it's my fault he no longer has a rat._

Ron's eyes widened. The minute owl was still hooting excitedly. "Keep him?" he said uncertainly. He looked closely at the owl for a moment; then, to Harry's, Drew's and Hermione's great surprise, he held him out for Crookshanks to sniff.

"What do you reckon?" Ron asked the cat. "Definitely an owl?" Crookshanks purred. "That's good enough for me," said Ron happily. "He's mine."

Harry read and reread the letter from Sirius all the way back into King's Cross station. It was still clutched tightly in his hand as he, Drew, Ron, and Hermione stepped back through the barrier of platform nine and three-quarters.

Drew spotted his Dad, Chris Halliwell, at once. He was standing next to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, chatting, and when Mrs. Weasley hugged Harry in greeting,

And Drew saw Harry's Uncle Vernon. He was standing a good distance from Chris, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, eyeing them suspiciously. Drew glared at him, before turning to his friends.

"I'll call about the World Cup!" Ron yelled after Harry as Harry bid him and Hermione good-bye, then turned to his boyfriend. "Be sure to send me tons of letters, ok?" said Drew.

"Of course I will," said Harry as he gave Drew a kiss on the cheek. Harry bid Drew goodbye and wheeled the trolley bearing his trunk and Hedwig's cage toward his uncle.

"Bye Hermione, bye Ron," Drew bid his friends goodbye and walked towards his Dad, Dylan and Damien.

"A busy year?" asked Chris and the Halliwell brothers nodded quickly. "Welp, you can tell me when we get back home,"

They orbed to the Halliwell Manor and saw Drew's Grandma Piper, Grandpa Leo, Uncle Wyatt and Aunt Melinda standing in the hallway.

Suddenly, Piper hugged his grandsons so tight they couldn't breath. "Oh, I really really miss you," "We miss you too, Grandma Piper," choked Damien.

"So how's my nephews?" asked Wyatt. "Great, Uncle Wy!" said Drew as Piper released the brothers from her torturing hug. "Er—Everybody, we have something to tell you,"

"You and Harry broke up?" asked Chris. "You kicked Malfoy's butt?" asked Melinda. "You had an adventure with your friends again?" asked Piper.

"No, yes and yes," said Drew. "You kicked Malfoy's butt? Nice," "Wyatt!" shouted Piper.

Everyone laughed. "So what adventure did you have?" "You guys better sit down," And they did. Drew, Dylan and Damien told them all about Sirius Black and the temporary feud between Drew and Damien.

Drew also told them about The Angel of Death and about his warning. "So you tell me," Piper began. "you three almost got yourself killed?"

The brothers nodded. "And Sirius Black is an innocent man?" asked Melinda. "Yeah," "And you two had made up?" said Leo, pointing at Drew and Damien.

They both nodded. "About The Angel of Death," Chris began. "you actually cheated him?" "Yeah," said Drew happily. "Why, haven't that had been done before?"

Leo and Piper were now looking at each other. "Once," said Leo. "And that's it," "What's it about?" "It's complicated but we managed,"

Drew then got up from his seat. "I wanna get some air," Drew walked towards the front door and opened it. He sat on the steps, looking at the beautiful neighbourhood of San Francisco.

There were people, walking down the street; kids playing around at their front yards; car driving around the city. Drew closed his eyes and smiled. _'There's no place like home,'_ Drew thought.

"Well, well, well," said a voice. Drew opened his eyes and saw The Angel of Death standing in front of him. "Death..." mumbled Drew. "So, you're cheated me," said Death sternly.

"And?" said Drew slowly. "Is that wrong?" "Do you know what you and your friends had done?" Drew shook his head casually. "Your interference had messed up The Grand Design,"

"Mmhmm?" hummed Drew slowly. "You and your friends had broke one of the most important rules in the universe," said Death. "The Grand Design is supposed to keep everything in balance."

"Men and women, cats and dogs, left and right...alive and dead," Drew didn't know where this was going. "So what are you going to do?"

"I'm going to make things right," said Death. "You're not going to take Sirius's and Buckbeak's life, are you?" "No," said Death calmly. "I will take another two lives instead,"

Drew chuckled coldly. "What is this? Final Destination?" said Drew. "I am just saying that death is inevitable and I will succeed this time,"

Drew felt fear swam through his body but he managed to calm himself down. "We'll see, Death, we'll see," said Drew calmly. "And by the way, you said that three deaths will happen and who is the third one?"

"Brown's rabbit," said Death firmly and he vanished before Drew even asked him more questions. _'Brown? Rabbit?' Drew thought. 'Brown, Brown...Lavender Brown! Her rabbit, Binky!'_

Drew chuckled quietly, shaking his head. He got up and went inside. Drew looked at the door and smiled. He conjured some wind and the door closed shut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you like this third book. 😊 
> 
> Like/Kudos= Pro
> 
> Comment=Hacker
> 
> Bookmark=God
> 
> Ignore=Noob

**Author's Note:**

> Like/Kudos= Pro
> 
> Comment=Hacker
> 
> Bookmark=God
> 
> Ignore=Noob


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